


The Free Neo Science Team

by FoffleSnave



Category: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: 5 idiots and a dog, Anxiety Attacks, Benrey is an otherwordly beast who does not understand people, Body Horror, Elder God Nonsense will occur, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Half Life VR But The AI Escaped And Now Have To Deal With Life, I needed some scientists ok, M/M, Minor Character(s), Monsters, Please help them they are all fools, Social Anxiety, Transformation, this tag list just keeps getting longer and longer huh, trust me there will be fluff I promise please don't destroy me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25352110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoffleSnave/pseuds/FoffleSnave
Summary: After the events of hlvrai come to their conclusion, Gordon discovers a lone portal during the after party. Convinced that the G-Man intends to keep him in some endless cycle of parties, movies and work, Gordon decides he's already been through enough and a mystery portal will either be a much needed escape or he'll get instantly destroyed. Either way, he gets out of the situation. Before he can dive headfirst into possible oblivion, the rest of the science team turn up. With some convincing from Gordon (and the portal's own energy drawing them closer), they agree to all enter the portal together to see what lies ahead. Coomer confides in Gordon just before they leave that 'this portal is no game'. They survive the journey, but soon find it's a little hard to cope with their biggest challenge: living a semi-normal life. Especially when it turns out most of the team are not exactly 100% human.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Bubby/Dr. Coomer (Half-Life)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 303





	1. Let Him B B B B B B B B

**Author's Note:**

> Be aware that the relationships are going to develop slowly, especially between Benrey and Gordon. Well. On Gordon's end anyway.
> 
> You can see more of these fools on [The Blog](https://freeneoscienceteam.tumblr.com/)

"B B B B B B B B"

Gordon rubbed his temples and let out a short snort. This was his life now. He glanced over towards Benrey, not daring to let his gaze linger for too long, least Benrey decide to take Gordon's momentary interest in whatever the fuck he was doing as a signal to come 'socialise' with him. No matter how weird it was, do not look for more than a second. To be fair, this time it was one of the least bizarre things he'd seen Benrey doing. He was just tapping away at the same spot on his phone while making a bunch of 'B' noises with his mouth. It was oddly harmless. That still unsettled Gordon somewhat. It didn't seem right.

He took a moment to glance around the room in its entirety, still making sure not to stare at any member of the team. He really needed a break right now. Though he may love them, even that couldn't disguise the fact that sometimes, heck frequently, they were really really _really_ irritating. As it was, Dr Coomer was going on some tangent. Probably about his ex-wife. Or how he was certain they had wiped out 100% of the bug population within the building. Or a Wikipedia article about bugs. Bubby was sat nearby. It was hard to discern if he was feigning interest or genuinely listening to Coomer, but Gordon resisted the urge to try to find out. Limited eye contact was key. Tommy appeared to have fallen asleep, Sunkist lying next to him, somehow both lazily and protectively. How that was possible, Gordon couldn't work out, and least not without risking conversation. And then Benrey again. Tapping away on his phone in his own little corner, making some stupid sound and some stupid face, filling the air with Black Mesa Sweet Voice. 

Gordon pressed a hand into his head, as though trying to squash the buzzing and ringing in his skull. It would have been so easy. So easy to never deal with that shit again. He lay face down, squeezed his eyes shut, both hands now clamped on top of his head. But even in his frustration, in his own imagination, he couldn't picture himself actually doing it. And for a moment he focused on those memories, trying to sift his feelings out of the throbbing in his head.

* * *

The sound of each footsteps echoing distantly, vanishing off into the distance, kept him going. He took slow steps, glancing towards the sky, open and looming. They had escaped. There was something beyond Black Mesa, beyond the party and after-party. He wasn't certain that they _should_ have escaped, but it was done now. The repercussions could chase them down, but the sweet taste of fresh clean air that he was never meant to breath would make it just about worth it. 

He glanced back towards the abandoned building they had 'requisitioned' under 'Science Team Fucks Good' rules. It was some distance away now. He had seen glimpses of society when he was walking, but kept that information to himself. For now, the 'Science Team Beyblade Fuck Dome' would be the best place for them all. God he wished he'd used a different system to name the place. 'Everyone contributes a word' is not something that always works.

His mind was wandering, as were his legs, but that journey seemed to shatter as his eyes subconsciously locked on something. And before Gordon had managed to snap out of his thoughts, overwhelming rage and terror was already taking effects. Through the haze of emotions, he forced himself to actually connect eye to brain and comprehend what he was seeing.

A guard body  
  
No no no no fuck no shit fuck no no no no NO NO NO

Gordon let out an inhuman sound and pressed his hands to the sides of his head. Closing and opening his eyes over and over, in the hope the body would vanish. They hadn’t seen any of the clones since they got here, heck they hadn’t really seen other people, this wasn’t Black Mesa, there weren’t just guards lying around. But it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, maybe one of the guards followed them though? Maybe everyone in this world just looked like guards! Maybe it was a rock that looked like a guard? Each attempt to convince himself that it wasn’t _him_ failed and they were only getting more ridiculous. Eventually Gordon accepted there was only one thing to do. He knelt down besides the body. He knew the moment he got closer.

Benrey.

And he was still alive. His chest was moving up and down, taking shallow breaths. The motion made Gordon sick. Did the bastard even need to breathe? What kind of sick mockery was going on here? He wasn’t human! He didn’t need what they needed. Yet… he looked so oddly weak. Every few breaths he’d make a strangled noise, as though he were suddenly breathing syrup. It was a struggle. A genuine one perhaps. Was this all that was left of him?

Gordon thought back to the battle. He was sure Benrey had died… but he hadn’t actually got to see the body. That stupid suit wearing Chuck E Cheese debating dude had whisked him away… IT'S A FUCKING RESTAURANT! And then he hears that voice…

"Dr Freeman...Ah, it appears a mistake was made with the…. Trash disposal. Perhaps a simple matter of using the wrong part of a trash compactor. I'm sure you can rectify this…"

Gordon glanced around for suit man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he could still speak here? Or fragments of him echoed within Gordons fractured mind? Or perhaps it was the voice of the anger that was boiling in his chest. An attempt to cover his desires with the excuse of following orders? Gordon placed his hand over Benrey's neck. This was it. He wanted this. He wanted this. He wanted this… he took a deep breath, swallowed… and his hand continued to hover.

"Fuck… why… why can't-"

His words were cut off by a stream of brightly coloured Sweet Voice flooding into his mouth, almost choking and burning as it flowed into his lungs. He felt a sense of revulsion take hold of him, a deep nausea within his stomach. He gritted his teeth, and pushed himself away from Benrey, placing his hands on the ground to stabilise himself. He glanced over, Benreys mouth still leaking that bizarre substance. He was still though, this was no attack. An uncontrollable stream, released in response to Gordon's voice. Gordon forced himself to keep breathing, even though each breath seemed to push the Sweet Voice further into his lungs, letting it invade his body. The feelings grew more intense, he felt like he was going to be sick, going to explode, tears stung at the corner of his eyes and his body was shaking. And then with one, sharp breath, enough of it permeated into his body that he was snapped into understanding.

Benrey had known the whole time. He had known Gordon would be the one involved in the test. That Gordon was the one the 'G-Man' (the… suit dude???) had sent to take care of Benrey. Every stupid thing, the passports, the following, the comments, the arm, it was some desperate, pitiful attempt to get Gordon to stop, to give up. He had to stop Gordon. If he didn't he was going to die going to die going to die going to die-

Gordon jolted back, slapping at his face and the now golden brown Sweet Voice surrounding him. Benrey was still spewing it, like some kind of disgusting fountain. The voice hung in the air, a sense of dread seeming to waft from it… and each second that he lingered in the cloud brought new ideas to his head. Cracking Benrey’s skull, crushing him, bludgeoning him with a rock, carrying him to a cliff and hurling his pathetic body...Gordon pushed himself out of the cloud and away from Benrey, trying to process the feelings and memories inflicted on him.

"Mr Freeman? I know you wanted to be out here alone for a bit, but it's been-"

Tommy's voice stalled at the sight 

"That's a lot of...Is that-"

"It's Benrey… Tommy what does all this mean" Gordon waved his hand in the air, gesturing at the Sweet Voice.

"Golden brown like rye means he's expecting to die…"

"Is that what he wants?"

"I don't think so Mr Freeman I uh think. I... think he just thinks he will?"

Gordon looked over Benrey. Benrey was expecting this. He'd done everything he could to stop it… short of straight killing Gordon. Gordon had to wonder if he could have done that at any time. If there was some tiny fraction of mercy within Benrey… or if he just hadn't had the power at the time.

Well fuck all that. Fuck everything that was planned, fuck Black Mesa, fuck suit dude, fuck doing what he was 'meant' to do.

Yet he still hesitated. He turned towards Tommy, slowly, as his body still seemed to be suffering from Sweet Voice overdose.

"What should we do with him, Tommy?"

'I uh, I'm not in charge anymore, Mr Freeman'

Gordon let out a sigh through his nose. He could tell Tommy just didn't want to force that choice on him. But that's exactly what Gordon wanted him to do. He didn't want to make it himself.

"We're the Science Team, right? Team. So. I'll listen to your thoughts and consider them. What do you think we should do, Tommy. I trust you"

Tommy fumbled with his hands, mimicking the action of letting rip a Beyblade. Gordon would have to make sure he got him one when there was a chance. He deserved something to make him happy.

"I think… I think he needs help and.. we should help him, Mr Freeman"

Tommy avoided looking directly at Gordon as he said this, his voice shaking somewhat. Gordon pushed himself up and walked over to Tommy, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I think you’re right Tommy. I think we’ll do that. Yeah, sure, why fucking not! Come on, let's have a look at him”

They knelt over Benrey, who’d finally stopped his impression of a Soda Machine.

“He looks in a really bad way, Mr Freeman!”

“Don’t worry Tommy, we’ll change that! We'll grab some needles and shoot up his veins with Soda. Slap a medkit on his head. Shove another stick up his ass, see if that gets his mouth running again" 

"Uh I'm not really a medical doctor Mr Freeman but I don't remember reading about any of that. I'm not sure that will help!"

Gordon couldn't help but laugh. Tommy had a sweet naivety about him when it came to certain topics. It was somewhat grounding. Tommy gave him a confused look.

"Well, neither am I! But I'm sure we can work it out. Or he'll fix himself. He always managed to do it when it was inconvenient… no doubt he’ll be an extra inconvenience now and expect us to handle it all"

Gordon reached down to scoop up Benrey. He made sure to be a little rough, digging the nails of his regenerated hand into him. Wanting to whisper 'Just be fucking grateful I don't have a gun for an arm still'. He kept that thought to himself though. It would be fun to be the one shifting around the sleeping idiot for once.

It didn’t take long to reach the STBFD (it wasn’t even a _dome_ ), even with Benrey being carried in every undignified way Gordon could manage, and some pictures taken along the way for… documentation. Tommy ran ahead, to be greeted by Sunkist and the rest of the team.

“Look who Mr Freeman found!”

"Oh finally. I was wondering when he would get back". Bubby seemed almost annoyed that they were making him pay attention. It was as though Gordon had brought back a rock, instead of the body of the otherworldly alien they thought they had killed.

Gordon just stared at Bubby. He needed a few moments to process- no ok he’s got it.

“Back? Back from where?!”

“Hell! We sent him there. He took a long time to get back. I hope he had a good holiday!” There was almost a sense of joy in his voice. Almost. And then back to irritation and looking elsewhere.

“Hello Gordon- Hell! Hello-”

Gordon just buried his head in his hands, letting out a choked laugh. True death and the consequences of it were such an alien concept to all of them.

“Hey Doctor Coomer. Listen, I’m going to head back out on my walk, I need… ugh… something, after all this. See what you can do about…”  
  
He just gestures vaguely at Benrey. This walk had not given him what he needed and like Hell he was going to be around when Benrey woke up. He turned around and started to head out the door, before Doctor Coomer called out.

"You just went for a walk- Hello- Have a nice walk Gordon"

God they were not ready for normal contact yet… Would they ever be? Would this bunch of questionably human things ever-

* * *

  
“YO GORGONZOLA FREEMAT, I GOT A QUESTION FOR YOU”

Gordon was snapped out of his memories, back to the present time. Lying face down, on the floor of the STBFD, and oh God, Benrey was coming over. Gordon just lay as still as possible. Benrey had seen him sleep, watched him sleep, the thought almost made him shudder, and he knew Benrey would know he was faking…

“Yo, Idiot?”

He didn’t move. Just waited for the inevitable kick or punch, as Benrey loomed over him.

“....yo… baby boy Feetman having a little nap in his special sleepy spot… haha… yeah ok, I don’t want advice from sleepy babies... bro, you rest for now. .”

He walked away

He walked away...


	2. The Naming Of The STBFD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory set before Chapter 1, detailing how the STBFD came to be named

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short little chapter and is set before the previous one (due to this story being created with a blog, things are going to be a little haphazard when it comes to order at times) I hope it still works for everyone! The key thing is that this was pre-Benrey.

Gordon took a deep breath as he returned to the previously abandoned building, now home to 4 people and a perfect dog. He honestly didn't know how long they would last here. Ever since the resonance cascade had been resolved, he'd become far more aware of the gnawing in his stomach and the dryness of his mouth. It must have been some form of survival mode, allowing him to survive off Powerade, soda and cactus juice. Maybe there had been a Tic Tac? He couldn't remember thanks to the chaotic mix of events, and now his stomach was a chaotic mix of disaster substances. He wasn't even sure how he managed to keep it all down. And now he desperately needed something that had at least an essence of nutrients.

The sliding door to enter the building was jammed partially open with a chunk of wall. Honestly he couldn't work out where the chunk had come from and he didn't want to know. Last thing he needed to think about was the structural integrity of a clearly about to collapse on them all and crush them, oh he was thinking about it. If they were crushed, would the others restart as they always did? Could the HEV suit save him? Could-

"Oh! Gordon! Stop gazing about like a shit baby! I have decided we need to deal with our situation"

Bubby had a serious look on his face. The entire team was gathered in a circle on the floor, even Sunkist. It was like a mad scientist kindergarten. Gordon stared for a moment, then flopped down in the open space left for him.

"Right. We do. We have to get a source of food and water-"

"Gordon I'm full"

"How? How can you be full? We haven't eaten in… We haven't eaten!"

"We ate delicious jelly worms yesterday! You should of joined us"

"THOSE WERE REAL WORMS"

"Look Gordon! Chocolate!"

"THAT'S A COCKROACH DON'T-"

Gordon quickly averted his gaze from Coomer, but couldn't press his hands on his ears quickly enough to block out the crunching and follow up slurping. The Cactsodade in his stomach became very noticeable…

“What did you need to talk about, Mr Freeman? Food?”

Gordon glanced up at Tommy, forcing a smile at him, even though the very suggestion of food made him never want to eat again right now.

“Uhh… don’t think I can manage talking about that right now...ughhhh… let me just lie down”

“Well, since you’re giving up and having a baby nap, Gordon, I guess we can return to my conversation that you interrupted. That was a little rude of you.“

Bubby clears his throat, as if the attention of the room wasn’t already on him. Maybe he wanted Gordon to focus a little more? He’d have to settle without. After waiting for a few moments, he seemed to accept that.

“It is about time a name was chosen for this place”

Gordon wrapped his arms around his stomach. This was what Bubby was focused on? He just gave a half laugh, then immediately regretted it, and flopped over into a fetal position as his body cramped from trying so hard to find a single vitamin from anything in his stomach.

"W-why?"

"How will we get letters if no one knows where to send them, Mr Freeman?" Tommy spoke up, having clearly been thinking this through.

"HHhuuah... Of course. So are there any ideas?"

Perhaps the science team had gotten used to Gordon curling up on the floor, because the conversation continued as normal, except for Bubby giving disapproving glances. Tommy piped up first.

"I was thinking the, uh, the Tic Tac Box, because we're like little Tic Tacs, shaken up and minty fresh"

That was oddly cute. Gordon was 99% sure he wasn't minty fresh, considering he was still stuck in the HEV suit, but there seemed like there was no harm in it. He glanced over to Bubby, who looked like he was sucking on a lemon. Clearly not a fan of The Tic Tac Box.

"I believe it should be the No Hope House"

Jolly as always, huh Bubby? Gordon just glanced over to Coomer, hoping for some idea that could end this.

"I think we should name it- HELLO GORDON- Gordon, sitting upright is beneficial to conversation"

Gordon sighed and pushed himself up. It was easier than arguing.

"Yes, hello Doctor Coomer. I'm up now. I guess we could call it-"

"Gordon, you interrupted my idea. That's rather rude, don't you think?"

"No, you interrupted your idea. But fine. What is it?"

"HELLO GORD- GGGORDE- EGG- LOOK A- Science Team Containment Facil- Soda"

"......Ok well these are all… suggestions. How about we. Uh fucking, just yell out a word each. I'll start off with 'Science Team'-"

"That's two words"

"Gordon, don't be greedy"

"Please. Please we have to start with that part at least…"

"Fine but I still don't like it"

"And I didn't like it when my arm got cut off."

Bubby scrunched up his face and glanced away for a moment.

"I still don't know why you bring that up so often"

Gordon rubbed his face and sighed deeply

"Just…fucking... let's go. Science Team…"

"Beyblade!"

"Fuck"

"Dome"

Gordon could only blame himself for this. Why did he think for a second this would produce anything better than their ridiculous ideas? Why was this his life? Tommy looked pleased he'd got to say the first word, Bubby just had a grin on his face and Coomer looked like he was trying to work out why he'd said 'Dome' when this was clearly not a dome. Tommy's shape recognition really was some kind of uncommon ability, at least among Black Mesa staff.

Gordon mulled over it for a moment. Perhaps he could convince them to shorten it to the Science Team Dome. That would be easier. The ST- wait fuck no, scrap that thought entirely. Fine. The Science Team Beyblade Fuck Dome it was. At least STBFD wasn't already in use,as far as he knew.

In the time he'd sat thinking, the others had already started chatting amongst themselves about designing a flag, decorations and maybe even a large sign. Gordon closed his eyes and tried to accept the possibility that he was going to be living in a building labelled with a giant 'Fuck' for the foreseeable future. This was probably far easier than some of the things he'd had to accept over the past few days, and yet he swum in his thoughts for sometime. The idea of telling someone where he lived and getting the response 'Oh the fuck building?' bounced around his brain, jumping between making want to yell in despair and burst out laughing.

"Mr Freeman? Is something wrong?"

Tommys voice was filled with such gentle concern that it dispelled the grasp of worry on him and brought him back to the room. He nodded and took a few slow breaths, before standing up.

"Yeah, I'm fine Tommy. I'm just going to take a look around the… the uh… Science Team...building-"

"BEYBLADE FUCK DOME"

"Yes, thank you Bubby, I had completely forgotten the name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo bro good job at reading


	3. A Totally Normal Grocery Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon goes to get groceries. I'm sure that can't possibly go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware this chapter contains some elder god weirdness and descriptions of anxiety attacks. Take care of yourselves, bros

“Gordon I’m thirsty”

“Yeah, me too Doctor Coomer”

Gordon was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Eyes following along the cracks, wondering if they had gotten any bigger since they arrived. Watching a spider duck in and out, probably wondering where the rest of the bugs went. Sorry buddy, they were someone else’s lunch now. According to Doctor Coomer, they’d wiped out the entire bug population within the area… 15 times? But it had been a real struggle. Gordon couldn’t stomach the bugs after watching Coomer eat them raw far too many times. Bubby refused to eat the bugs, for some unknown reason. But at least he seemed to need less meals than Gordon did. Tommy seemed to be dealing with it all rather well, but Gordon worried about the mental strain. Going from resonance cascade to Chuck E Cheese to floor bug meals couldn’t be any good. And Tommy didn’t seem to want to voice any of his struggles.

Benrey had managed to obtain a mysterious supply of stew, Snickerdoodles and bottled water a little while back. It had certainly helped and Gordon had been too dazed from lack of food to actually question where the Hell it came from. But they were running low again. The inevitable loomed over them, or more specifically, Gordon. After all, he was the only one of the science team who could probably ask for supplies without causing a major incident. As he heard the last water bottle be opened, he let out a little sigh.

"Right… I'm heading out to get food"

"Will you be ok going alone Mr Freeman?" Tommy looked rather concerned, although Gordon could tell he would probably also be uncomfortable coming along.

"Ah… probably for the best, Tommy. You take the lead while I'm gone, yeah? I trust you!"

"Of course, I'll do my best Mr Freeman!"

Bubby made a bit of a tutting noise. Yes, you want to lead. Gordon has done been known this. Too bad. Tommy's the only one Gordon believes wouldn't cause the place to spontaneously combust within 5 seconds. He nodded at the others and headed out.

* * *

It took about 30 minutes to reach the nearby town. It was minorly concerning how many empty buildings Gordon had to travel past before he got there, he doubted the reason could be any worse than what they'd already handled. He was probably already dying of radiation poisoning, may as well add to it. Still, no one seemed to look alarmed by him turning up. Some odd looks, sure, but that was probably because of the HEV suit right? Right? He wandered around the edge of the town, trying to locate a grocery shop. People were staring. People were whispering. About him. He was sure. I mean, he was an unkempt scientist who hadn't washed in over a week, trapped inside a weird ass experimental suit, he'd been beaten and bruised and couldn't even meet people's eyes.

He felt a thousand eyes on him at once. He could hear the whispers in his mind, they'll never stop talking about him, he'll never be able to come back, he'll be the freak of legends, going down forever in history as such a fucking weirdo. Those eyes are burning, staring into his very soul, seeing his every sin and fear. The world was going dark. He had to get out. They were going to trap him, keep him as a freak show. They were coming. Run. Run. Run.

Gordon found himself leaning against a crumbling wall, a little way from the town. His legs were trembling and aching, lord knows how fast he'd run to get here. He slowly slid down the wall to become a puddle of Gordon on the floor. He could feel a hand wrapped around his chest, crushing it slowly. Each breath was a terrible struggle. It'd been some time since his social anxiety had kicked in. He was usually fine at work, it was his zone, he knew what he was doing and what to say. And during the resonance cascade, it was like he could only focus on the beasts and danger in front of him… plus he hadn't taken his medication since then. He swore under his breath. He was the only member of the science team who wouldn't destroy any place he went to, yet he couldn't even manage to walk down the street without a breakdown. He pushed a hand into his face, letting out a choked sob. He felt absolutely pathetic. He didn't even know how he was going to explain this to the team… he wouldn't be able to go back to them empty handed. Maybe he'd just have to live as a hermit of this wall forever now…

"Bro… wuh… why you… clinging to rubble? On the ground? You that desperate? Getting handsy with a rock?"

Gordon winced. Why the fuck was he here? He tried to speak calmly but his voice was shaking.

"I t-t-told y-you to fuck-fucking.. s-stay… f-fuck… g-go"

"Wuh… bro. Why you being so… mean to your old pal Benrey? Why's your voice all wiggly sound? You tryna sweet voice me?"

Gordon just tried to curl up tighter, releasing the rubble in favour of just wrapping his arms around himself and praying Benrey would leave. Maybe if he became small enough, Benrey would somehow lose sight of him…

"Yo…"

Benrey's voice was closer now, but softer. Gordon opened his eyes just in time to see some sweet voice floating towards him. Fear kicked in and he tried to press himself into the wall. Benrey's eyes widened and he slapped his hand over his mouth, scooping up the voice that was floating in the air as he did so.

"Bro… bro I'm just… tryna make you feel better. Like meds, yeah? Just a little calm down song from Benrey. Make your brain stop whirring?'

"No… no I don't want your. Weird mouth balls"

"Bro… don't say it like that… man I'm tryna help… just give me a sec-"

"No! I don't want it! Can't you do some other shit, that isn't firing your weird fucking otherworldly song into my mouth?"

Benrey seemed to think for a moment, before nodding and closing his eyes. Gordon just watched, eyes flickering between Benrey's hands and face. He didn't want any surprises. But he sure got one. He jumped in alarm as he felt a tickle on the back of his head, like a spider. He clapped his hand onto the back of his head, but the tickle wasn't there anymore. It was inside his head. Moving along his skull, wiggling as though trying to find a further entrance right into his brain. Gordon let out a scream and began gasping and sobbing. He was going to lose his mind, literally.

Benrey looked up, staring at Gordon. Had he hurt him somehow? Gordon meanwhile got to see a strange tendril, with feathery ends, sliding out from behind his head. It was translucent, as though it weren’t meant to be seen, occasionally flickering out of his vision. It twisted around, linking back to Benrey. Gordon could not take this right now.

“What the fuck is that fucking bullshit I can’t-”

“I’mwasjust..tryna...get it… I thought you wanted… not Sweet Voice”

“Ha...haaa….haha”

Gordon just wheeze laughed, smearing tears and mucus all over his face. He just broke down completely. He could not get over the idea that Benrey had just tried to directly go into his brain. He didn’t care if Benrey had been trying to help. It was so fucking messed up. Benrey could just get into his brain? Benrey could just… make him feel a certain way? He was defenseless and was going to be some otherworldly beasts plaything. This was it.

Benrey hadn’t stopped staring at Gordon. Why didn’t Gordon want his help? Was it that weird to attach a tendril to someone's mind and pump them full of positivity? Seemed like the most sensible thing to do in this situation, but clearly it had freaked Gordon out. Maybe Benrey could understand if he… let himself see a little more. He let go of his focus on his guard body, beginning to drift into the other dimensions and realms around him. He kept his sight on Gordon, though he was searching for something more of him. Gordon’s soul came into view in front of him. It was vibrating violently and rapidly switching between colours. Red, yellows, black, then shifting between green and an almost see-through blue. Green to blue, like a grass blade with a dew drop tear, means his soul is full of fear.

Benrey didn't understand. This was his fault, he knew that much, but he didn't get it. Why couldn't Gordon just snap out of it? Why not just… stop feeling those things? A tendril slowly moved across this unseen plane, reaching for Gordon's soul. Stopping for a moment to feel the energy radiating from it. It was so much… but it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely the energy could just be redirected or… something? The tendril grew, wrapping around the soul, without actually making contact. A sense of desperation was given off, begging for relief. The tendril slipped closer and made contact. A sharp sting of hopelessness, anger and terror flashed down the tendril, brightly coloured little lights speeding towards Benrey. He couldn't send it back now. The first of the lights drew closer and Benrey realised all too late that he wasn't ready for this.

Benrey's world seemed to shrink, an overwhelming darkness surrounding him. It was though each of his tendrils had been severed of their hold. He couldn't reach anything, he couldn't feel anything, he was thrashing about hopelessly in darkness, what was he even searching for? A light? There's nothing that could dispel this darkness. A friend? You don't have any. A way out? There's no way out for you. Rage boiled inside him as he questioned himself. 'Thought you could take this baby weak breakdown, huh bro? Thought you were tough? Didn't get it huh? Do you get it now? Do you get it now? DO YOU GET IT NOW? HUH?' He let out a sad, desperate sweet voice, but the colour didn't even show. He was alone, lost, forever gone. He was dying. To himself. And he deserved every ounce of this terror. To be crushed underneath it.

* * *

Gordon snapped back rather suddenly to the world around him. He still felt disturbed and a little sick but it was as though something had sapped all the nervous energy from him. He didn't feel good, just didn't have the ability to panic for the moment. It was weird. He glanced around, only to see Benrey, curled into a little ball, breathing heavily. His body was convulsing, limbs moving in unnatural directions. Gordon felt a bitterness in his chest. Was Benrey… mocking him? Was this all a joke to him, while Gordon had been reduced to shuddering on the floor? Had he purposefully chosen to freak him out more? Gordon marched over and spoke clearly.

"Benrey"

No response… that seemed unusual. If you're going to make fun of someone, wouldn't you over-exaggerate, make a point while responding to them? And… thinking back on all the times he had been bullied for his panic attacks, and there had been plenty of times, it was usually just over the top raspy breaths and a bunch of 'I'm G-G-Gordumb I d-dont even know how to breathe. Boo hoo waaaaa waa I'm a baby'. This was different. The shaking, the unresponsiveness… this was real.

Gordon looked down at Benrey’s trembling body, reaching his hands out towards him, only to pull back. He couldn't work out how to pull him out of this. He was so weak… that voice rang through his head once more...

"Dr Freeman. It appears that you are attempting to go against your intended path. It is… most disappointing that you would take this course of action… or perhaps, inaction would be more accurate? I'm sure you recall that the true nature of the one you call Ben-rey was on a need to know basis? Perhaps you need to be...enlightened. This behaviour is most… unnatural. It indicates complete deterioration. You may think that staying your hand is mercy… but it is equivalent to leaving someone to bleed out… when you could release them from their pain. Make your choice, Dr Freeman. I will be waiting"

Gordon firmly clamped his hands over his head, but that couldn't block out the voice within his mind. He gritted his teeth and shook his head.

"Fuck you, fuck off, fuck everything, I won't do it"

He snapped his head up to glare at the owner of the voice, but once again the 'G-Man' was nowhere to be seen.

"I've lost it, I've fucking lost it, I swear I-"

He looked at Benrey again. Took a slow steady breath, before scrambling over to try and get within Benrey’s line of sight. He'd never been on this side of a panic attack before. He tried to think of what had been done for him but… frequently he had just got mockery. Any help he had got was in foggy memories. Still, he tried to focus on the few calming things he could remember.

"Hey Benrey. If you can hear me, I need you to try and take some slow, deep breaths with me. It'll be ok. I promise you aren't dying. Trust me, I've survived plenty of these. And I'm just a little baby, right? Alright, breath with me now"

Gordon took slow, deep breaths, loudly enough that he hoped Benrey would hear. It did seem to have some effect, Benrey opening his eyes to glance at Gordon. But it still seemed like he wasn't all there.

"Hey Benrey… can you tell me what you can see right now?"

"B-bro what? W-what are you… what?"

"Trust me. It'll help"

"I can see your legs bro. Like. Your legs. On the ground bro. There's like some fucking grass by them? Weak ass cringe grass tho. All droopy and shit."

Gordon had to hold back a chuckle at that.

"Yeah man, you tell that grass. You wanna sit up and show that grass you mean business? I heard it doesn't like PlayStation. Or have a passport"

Damn, Benrey did want to show that grass who meant business. He pushed himself up and then slammed his fist down on the grass. Gordon scooted back to give him space, as the grass trembled at the pure might of Benrey. Or maybe it was the wind? Nah. Totally fear. It seemed to be a pretty cathartic experience for Benrey. After ensuring the grass would regret its transgressions, he took a deep breath and looked at Gordon. He held that look, thinking things over for a moment, before opening his mouth.

"You look a little shit, bro"

Gordon sighed. Really? After all that. He rubbed his face and just nodded.

"Maybe you should take a look at yourself. But man, I'll take that because I may look a little shit but feel massively shit. Don't know about you."

Benrey was quiet at that, fiddling with his thumbs. Gordon watched him for a moment. There was something he needed to know.

"Benrey… you know the G-Man, right?"

"Wuh? Huh? What, man?"

"The suit dude"

"Shit dude, people wear suits. Lots of people. Cringe man"

"Benrey, please stop fucking around. I know you know who I mean. The guy you asked for a free month of Playstation Plus from? Wears a suit, appears from nowhere, only we can see him! Well, some of the time! Oh! And he claims he's Tommy's dad! Mr. Coolatta!"

"Oh that dude. Haha yeah. He sucked man. Didn't have a passport. Didn’t give me free Playstation Plus. Like man. He might be more of a loser than you."

Benrey was very interested in the colour of the ground as he said this.

"He wants me to kill you"

Benrey stiffened up. His skin colour had never looked quite right, oddly grey, but now it seemed to tinge with greens and blues, looking even more unnatural. He squeezed his hands together tightly, and began rocking back and forth.

"I know. Why haven't you?"

There was something strikingly normal about the way he said that. No 'bro', no mocking, no set up for calling Gordon a loser. Yet it was a terribly disturbing thing to say. No protest, no shock, no disgust. Just a sense of despondency. As though he was just waiting for the inevitable strike against him.

“...I’m… I’m not going to kill you. Especially not because some suit wearing prick wants me to. Like man, I am so done with following orders and any of that Black Mesa shit. We aren’t there any more and that’s the end of it”

Benrey was silent. Gordon had long wished for Benrey to be speechless, but now. Now he just wanted to hear something. Anything. He didn’t know where to go from here. It took a few moments of nothing for Benrey to talk.

“Ha… that’s. Kinda cringe bro. Like you care about me. Or some shit. Ha. What’s up with you man? Caring about shit. Fucking… you good? Someone knock you on the head? Your baby brain drop all it’s little shit memories? You forget what I did man? Dude… haha what...you can’t just… you can’t… I…I’m bad bro, remember? C’mon...”

“Benrey…”

“It’s cringe bro! So cringe man! I don’t want your weak ass fucking god damn baby little…”

Benrey seemed to be just going into some sort of state, babbling out a bunch of his favourite words and some incomprehensible noises. Gordon reached out a hand and firmly placed it on Benreys shoulder. That snapped him back.

“Hey… you know what’s real cringe? If we go back to the Science Team without anything. Bubby will roast us both. Maybe literally. What are we going to do, huh? You got any pro gamer ideas?”

Benrey gave a small smile at that. It was odd to see that glimpse of genuine feeling on his face. But it was nice. Gordon wished it would be like that more often.

“Oh, I’ll get us shit bro, don’t worry, you big buddy Benrey’s here to hold your little hand and guide you through this difficult part… Yo, the science team said you were up to robbing a bank?”

“Benrey, we can’t rob a bank, we can barely stand up right now”

“Haha, no, god bro, I ain’t an idiot. But you’re cool with like… stealing shit?”

“Uhhh… sure I guess? Not like I can lord over with any moral high ground after all that happened…”

“Right bro. I’ll sort shit. You just sit your soft ass down and take a lil nap. Have a lil rest.”

Gordon had no idea if having a ‘soft ass’ was a good thing and he did not want to ask. He wasn’t particularly tired either, but there was no harm in closing his eyes and focusing on the warmth of the sun for a bit…

* * *

Gordon drifted in daydreams, thinking about some bizarre future where he and the science team were lying on the beach, watching Sunkist jumping about among the ocean spray. Bubby was lounging in the sun, oddly content for once. Coomer was explaining sand to Tommy. Benrey was building a sandcastle, little purple bubbles flowing from his mouth… it was nice… the skeleton stood over him ominously, reaching down towards him-

Gordon snapped upright and let out a strangled noise, eyes wide and filled with horror. The skeleton almost dropped the pack of sodas it was carrying, just managing to keep hold of them before they hit the ground. They were put down with a clunk and the skeleton spontaneously split apart, bones clacking against the ground before disintegrating. Benrey appeared in Gordon's vision, looking concerned.

"Bro… you… I… thought you were… shit dude I didn't mean… I was just…"

Benrey gestured around. There were a bunch of groceries around them. Gordon blinked a few times.

"Oh… shit you actually… right uh. We should get this back"

Gordon jumped up and started grabbing at random items, trying to ignore his shaking body and rapid breaths. Benrey opened his mouth, letting a few stray traces of sweet voice out, a gentle green colour. He looked at Gordon, a few little choked noises coming out of his mouth… but he just couldn't form the words. He let out another stream, that green again slowly turning to blue… but Gordon didn't understand. He just waved the lingering vapour away.

"Uhhh… come on Benrey, we gotta head back now"

Benrey just nodded, grabbing the remaining groceries, silently following Gordon back to the STBFD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Gordon


	4. You Thought You'd Get Soft Grandpas But It Was I, Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Benrey and Gordon experience the wonders of anxiety attacks, Coomer and Bubby get to enjoy misunderstandings, fear, and a lack of self-worth! Be aware that this chapter is going to punch you in the feelings. My only offering is that it will get better. Eventually.

It had been like this for a while. They would spend a lot of time together. They would flirt. Make a few lewd comments. Coomer hushing Bubby, saying they couldn’t say such things as co-workers, on the clock. Then grinning and whispering something back. The first time he had done that, Bubby had been so startled that he’d fallen back into a laughing fit, blushing and wheezing. It had been wonderful to watch. Coomer hadn’t seen him laugh like that before… and he doubted anyone else would ever get to see such a treat. Yet still. They went in circles. It was almost the same every single time.

“Bubby! Have you perhaps considered… advancing our relationship? There are many benefits to upgrading to partner status! If you would like, I could list such benefits so that you may make an informed decision!”

Bubby would just chuckle at that, a soft blush tinting his cheeks. Coomer would always make sure they were somewhere private when he brought it up, but Bubby would still gently press a hand to his mouth.

“Why you gotta be so damn loud? You want everyone to know?” He would wheeze that out, trying not to laugh, while Coomer wiggled to get free of the hand.

“Yes! That is the point of becoming partners!” Coomer would state that in a very matter of fact manner while beaming brightly. He was like the goddamn sun and Bubby was a lizard dying to just lounge in that warmth. He wanted to… so badly

“It does seem like a damn good idea… I will have to think on it. I’m sure you understand, Doctor” Bubby would give him a smirk and a wink, all implying that they would soon be official.

And then nothing. Coomer would be far too nervous to bring it up. Their behaviour would stay the same. They’d work together, flirt, say silly things. But nothing would be official. I mean, every scientist there thought they were dating. Yet ultimately they weren’t. It hurt. It was confusing. How Coomer had longed to take Bubby out to a quiet spot to stare at the stars. Just one little date. One little thing. Just them. They could take it as slowly as they needed. But still, it never happened. 

After some of his attempts, Coomer would assume that Bubby wasn’t actually interested, but was too polite to say so. So he would isolate himself, spend some time on his projects, not seeking out Bubby or making it so he could be easily found. But Bubby was like an old grumpy alley cat who had one single human they liked. He’d lash out at anyone trying to approach him, but when it came to Coomer, Bubby would seek him out. And once he found Coomer, he’d be just like a cat, basically sitting in the most awkward place possible and demanding attention until Coomer couldn’t resist any longer. They’d fall back into it all over. He’d be that one person who got the surprisingly gentle kneading from the cat, despite its jagged claws. But still, he couldn’t get it to stick around...

When Coomer had realised they were in a game, he had felt mostly horror, existential dread, and fear of the end. But there was some relief in his heart. Maybe this was why Bubby had never agreed to be his partner? Perhaps each time they reached that point, they were just resetting? It made sense somewhat. Like an NPC you just walk past who’s one line isn’t impactful so they just say the same thing over and over. It made him feel sick to the stomach, that they were just that. But it gave him a glimmer of hope. If they could get out. If he could just keep Bubby safe (well. Not safe. Not even alive. But as long as he could regenerate, that was fine) then maybe they could start off on something proper.

So, when escaping through Gordon didn’t work, he helped Gordon. And though he had been aggressive when they found Bubby, ultimately, he was just trying to play along. He didn’t want to leave Bubby in his tube, but maybe if he kept playing nice with Gordon, Gordon would let him out. And then he’d make sure to bring Bubby with him. In the end, it worked out. Coomer managed to convince Gordon to let Bubby free for the price of a PlayCoin. And that was the best option, right? Well… it turned out ok, but Coomer really had been afraid they had lost Bubby when they got to Xen. Seeing him as a car also stirred up some odd feelings. Sure, ‘we all have our secrets’. And Coomer certainly had kept things from Bubby… but what else could Bubby be keeping from him? I mean, considering all they had discussed, you would have thought Bubby would have made at least one joke about taking Coomer for a drive… or even for a ride, hmm? Still, Coomer held onto the idea that maybe things would change once they were out. He even convinced himself that the reason they kept having the same conversation was on his AI side as well. He wasn’t completely unaware of his little tics after all. And it was odd that he’d been willing to ask so many times, in such a similar way. Things would change when they were out.

They didn’t.

Gordon had left to go grocery shopping. Benrey had left soon after, claiming he needed to ‘watch the baby’. Tommy had taken Sunkist for a walk. They were alone. Bubby had seemed more grumpy of late, if that was even possible. It was more noticeable because Coomer wasn’t used to it being directed at him quite like this. He’d tried to make some delicious bug-based meals when they’re supplies got low, but Bubby refused to eat them, making quite a bit more fuss than usual. He’d tried bringing up the car thing with a little joke about how they should get engine oil for him. Bubby gave a single laugh but… didn’t seem to want to divulge any actual information. Just sort of walked away. Coomer had tried to convince Bubby to sleep a little closer to him. After all, they had done so plenty of times after the resonance cascade. Out of convenience, sure, but why not continue? But Bubby had made up excuses. Claimed he snores really loudly. Said he was restless and would probably end up kicking Coomer. Coomer had never noticed those things previously. He didn’t get it. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Had it just been the AI constraints holding them together all this time? Were they just going to fall apart now? Or was something on Bubby’s mind? And if so… why wouldn’t he talk... 

They had this chance now but Coomer felt beaten down by it all. He knew Bubby wasn’t a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, Hell, his heart was under about 20 layered sweaters if you were using that metaphor, but it was always something he seemed to be able to find. Not anymore. He didn’t even know where to start and Bubby was just fiddling with some scrap metal on the floor. He twiddled his thumbs. Made a few odd noises with his throat, a slight ‘Hello-’ escaping him, but quietly. Come on, they could talk this out. They were scientists and sensible-. They were scientists. Just speak to him.

“Bubby?”

“Yeah? What?”

“Could you… would y-you- you… come sit next to me for a moment?”

“Why, are you reading out another Wikipedia article? I can listen from here”   
  
“THE FREE ENCYCLOPEDIA THAT ANYONE CAN- Ah. Hmm. No I. It would be… better if you were over here”

“Fine, fine, I’m coming. Don’t be so impatient” Bubby tutted a bit, but it did seem to be in a teasing tone. He put down his attempted scrap masterpiece and came over to sit next to Coomer.

“Alright, what sage advice requires my full attention?”

Coomer… felt a knot in his stomach. He didn’t even know where to start. He hadn’t planned nearly this far ahead. He felt like his brain was completely empty and filled with whirring at the same time. Everything had been so fake before, but now it was real, and he couldn’t handle it.

“Hey… what’s the matter?” Bubby could be a bit more gentle when he needed to be. And he knew all too well the signs of Coomer being overwhelmed. It took a moment for Coomer to register that his hand was being squeezed.

“I d-dont- don’t don’t… HELLO- LOOK!” Coomer just wanted to bury his face in his hands, but one of them was being rather tightly held. Bubby gave him a gentle shake. Come on, snap out of it. Coomer took a deep breath and nodded to Bubby. Ok.

“Have I done something to offend you Bubby? You’ve appeared far more distant than usual. Perhaps if we discussed it we could resolve it. If you are no longer comfortable with our situation, I would recommend you consider whatever option is best for you”

Bubby flinched. That was kind of a lot at once, now that it had got out. It completely blindsided him, he had honestly hoped Coomer wouldn’t notice his distance. Or that Coomer would even prefer it that way… he made a few clicking noises with his tongue as he thought about his answer. He did not let go of Coomer’s hand.

“It’s nothing you’ve done. It’s just me being my damn self… I… I think you should consider what’s best for you instead”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand?”

“I… I think you should. Look around. Once Gordon trusts us enough to let us go to the town. I don’t see why he gets to decide if we’re socially acceptable enough, I certainly didn’t agree to that… but… I think you should. Consider other options. Perhaps you’ll find a new wife!” Bubby was smiling at that, but Coomer just kind of sunk. Oh. Ok. That didn’t work at all.

“W-why? I thought we… I... Don’t you… feel that way about me?”

“God. Of course I do, you idiot” Bubby spoke with irritation in his voice, yet he said idiot so fondly, as he always did to Coomer. He was still holding his hand.

Coomer’s brain sped ahead at this and he suddenly perked up, a smile on his face.

“Perfect! Then I suggest we alter our relationship status to reflect that and speak a little more about whatever is causing such uncertainty within you!

Bubby let out a half-hearted laugh. He looked at Coomer. And Coomer saw something that greatly upset him. Bubby looked broken. 

“You’re always like this...Your optimism… your smile. They’re so beautiful… and someone so much damn better should be seeing that. It’s what you deserve.” Bubby spoke with such fondness while letting go of Coomer’s hand, slowly standing up. Coomer reached for him.

“I don’t… better? What do you mean Bubby? We’ve both committed terrible atrocities against the United States Military and various scientists”

“I think they deserved it”

“Yes… I think it’s good that they died! But that doesn’t explain anything. You couldn’t phase me with anything you’ve done, so… why do you want me to seek out something you would consider better? Define parameter ‘better’?”

“It’s not what I’ve done… it’s what I am”

“Bubby… I know you were made in a tube. I’ve seen your tube!”

“You don’t know everything. You don’t know how far their experiments went. You don’t understand what will happen when I’m out of Black Mesa for this long. I’m not stable enough for you, Harold”

Coomer shrunk back a bit at his first name being used. He’d given it to Bubby as something special since everyone was always so insistent on using his last name. To hear it used to push him away really stung.

“I-I-I-I- Eyes are organs of the visual system- No! Talk to me! There’s nothing you could tell me that we couldn’t talk out! P-Please… help me. Help me understand”

Bubby shook his head. He was already walking out of the building. Coomer got up to give chase, so Bubby set himself alight before he could catch up. It hurt. But not as much as this entire conversation did. Coomer was forced back by the heat. Even in this moment, he couldn’t convince himself to wrap his arms around Bubby and ignore the flames. Bubby just looked at him. They both looked so lost...

“No. I do not deserve your understanding. Damn all this… I’ll. Be back later”

Bubby left the building, starting to scream in pain from the flames a little too early. He was still in earshot of Coomer, but he was too busy falling to the floor. On his knees, he just stared at his hands. Why hadn’t things worked out? What the hell was Bubby on about? He felt his brain start to go fuzzy…

“Help Me Gor- Hello-HELLO GOR- G- G HELLO NO NO NO- GOODBY- NO NO..”

Everything was spinning and he just didn’t understand. His electronics were overloading and there was rage building inside him. He didn’t even know who to be angry at. Certainly not Bubby, had someone got in his head? Oh, he’d destroy anyone who had. He’d kill them. He’d- UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRR

Coomer found himself next to the wall. His fist was balled up. There was a dent in the wall from a powerful impact and a new crack running up the wall to the ceiling. God he hoped Gordon wouldn’t notice that. They all had enough to worry about. Maybe he could move some things in front of it… yeah lets. Do that. And not think about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro, need a lil tissue from Benrey?


	5. Orange Peel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon decides he wants to be rid of the HEV suit, once and for all. Of course, it's never that simple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware this chapter contains injury and description of said injury!

There had been a sense of awkwardness hanging thick in the air of the STBFD recently. It had been a few days since the grocery trip, whereupon arriving back with arms full of supplies they had found Coomer sitting alone, his arms wrapped tightly around himself and rocking back and forth. Several objects had been pushed up against one of the walls in a seemingly random attempt to organise things. Gordon had sat next to Coomer and pulled the old man into a cuddle. He didn't know what had happened but… it felt like it was something serious. Benrey had kind of just dropped the groceries into a pile, before shuffling over to Coomer's right side and sitting beside him. Coomer had eventually snapped out of his rocking, letting out a soft 'Hello Gordon', before making a few choked sounds like little sobs. They'd stayed with him for some time, Gordon trying to pry out information, but all he got was the occasional 'Help Me Gordon'. Tommy had come back from his walk and immediately joined in on the hug, with Sunkist gently nuzzling up to Coomer as well. By the time Bubby had slinked back in, the science team was asleep in a cuddle pile. Good. At least Coomer had plenty of people to look out for him. He had certainly not joined the pile and instead crept further into the STBFD, finding a secluded spot to sleep in.

Things hadn't really settled down since then. Sure, by the morning Coomer had been acting as normal as he can manage and Bubby reappeared to complain about the groceries they had got, but something was wrong. Gordon couldn't tell what but… he just stared up at the ceiling, following the cracks with his eyes- wait is that a new one? Leading down to the wall-

"HELLO GORDON. AS YOU HAVE REQUESTED THIS IS YOUR 'IT IS RAINING' ALERT" 

Well. There goes that thought. He doesn't remember specifically asking Coomer to act as a blaring alarm whenever it began to rain, only having mentioned to the Science Team that it might be useful to know. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be a way to access their settings, so he was stuck with this now. Coomer just stared at him for a few moments as Gordon continued to lie on the floor.

"HELLO GORDON! THIS IS YOUR LIQUID WATER PRECIPITATION NOTIFICATION-"

"Alright, alright, I'm up, I'm going, I'm going, thank you, Dr. Coomer"

"...Hello Gordon!" Coomer proceeded to wave cheerfully as Gordon ran out into the rain.

He'd been making a point of going out whenever it would rain. Trying to rinse off the weird stains on the HEV suit(god knows what that blue-green smudge was). They had managed to set up a shower of sorts inside, but there was something about just sitting out in the rain that soothed Gordon… and it felt bizarre stepping into the shower with a full HEV suit on. God, he wanted this thing off… The only thankful thing about this whole situation was that the suit seemed to be containing his body odour. He did not want to know how pungent the smell would be once he got it off… if he got it off.

He remained in the rain for several minutes, taking slow, deep breaths and listening to the drumming of the droplets against the ground. The refreshing scent bought him a sense of peace, a momentary break from the chaos. But it couldn't be for long. It seemed as though the science team were scripted to check on him if he didn't appear in their sight for more than 15 minutes. He didn't know how they managed to home in on him every time, but he was sure they would find him at the depths of the ocean if he didn't give them a good enough reason to be gone.

So, he walked over to a small bucket he'd set aside to collect rainwater. Mixed in some of the soap they had obtained via skeletal assistance. Unfortunately, soda had also been one of their acquisitions. He'd already tipped the bucket over his head before he noticed the odd sweet smell that had been masked under the soap’s fragrance. He paused, rubbing his hands together, now registering the stickiness of deception from the undercover soda. He had barely finished compiling his list of possible suspects (Which was just two people long), when Sunkist lept onto him, gleefully licking the soda off his face. He couldn't help but laugh as the world's most perfect dog gave him a shower of his own. Gordon pressed a hand into that golden fur and-

God. He wished he could properly feel stuff. How long had it been, that these gloves had replaced his hands and left him disconnected? As Sunkist licked the soda from his suit, he felt weirdly bitter, and not over being pranked. He should be lying here, naked, covered in sticky soda, being licked at by a large dog while feeling the fluff of the fur between his fingers. Instead, he was locked away from feeling, from experiencing, from seeing his own fucking body.

What a thing to get upset over… he gritted his teeth and rubbed his face, before becoming even more irritated as he couldn't even touch his own face. He started madly scratching at the suit, slapping his arms against the ground, and even trying to bite into it. Sunkist had scampered back when he started and was whining softly, pleading at Gordon to stop. When Sunkist's attempt at reasoning failed, he rushed to Gordon's side, trying to nuzzle up to his face and stop him. Gordon tried to avoid Sunkist's care, but it's impossible to resist the perfect dog. Especially when the perfect dog grabs one of your arms in his mouth and firmly holds it. No smacking yourself silly here, Mr. Freeman. Gordon gives a bit of a defeated look and stands up, before heading inside. He takes a deep breath and yells into the STBFD.

"I want this fucking suit off!"

For once, Gordon was going to ignore the cries of shame in his brain as he stood there, arms spread out, dripping wet with a mixture of soda, rain, and dog drool. The rest of the science team just stared for a moment. They needed to process what had just happened. Coomer was the first to speak up.

"HELLO- HEL- GOR- IT'S RAINING- Gordon the HEV suit is designed to only be put on and removed at the appropriate stations! This is to prevent unintended or purposeful removal in dangerous situations! Even at the appropriate stations, removal is extremely difficult!"

"Yeah Mr Freeman, they take safety very seriously at Black Mesa. That suit- suit went through rigorous test-testing" Tommy added, apparently still convinced by the safety standards of Black Mesa.

Gordon just sighed and then grumbled, "I know, but there's got to be an emergency override or a weak spot or can we just saw it off at this point?" He was so tired of being constricted by this suit into a touch restricted walking orange.

"I… I don't think so Mr Freeman-"

"Oh brooo…. Bro. Bro I can. Get you out you out. Yeah? Feetman going to give me a little show, yeah? Lemme strip him down? Show me his little handsies and toesies? For ol buddy Benrey? Please bro"

Gordon squeezed his eyes shut and balled up his fists. He needed to consider how desperate he was because like Hell did he want Benrey to do that. But considering what Coomer and Tommy said, eldritch befuckery might be the only way out. The strange and disturbing thought that Benrey had seen his feet more recently than he himself had because of the feet scans he somehow got, split his mind once again.

On the one hand, Benrey would get so much provocative material out of this. It was fucking Benrey of all people.

On the other hand, he was sick of this suit. It reminded him of Black Mesa, of all the bullshit he went through and how, even now, that shit still wouldn't leave him alone.

"Fine. You can do it" Gordon had to force those words out through gritted teeth.

"Hell yeah, Feetman time bro! Come on follow Benrey bro, let's get this suit off yo"

Oh Hell no. Gordon shook his head and stood his ground.

"We're staying here, like Hell I'm letting you take off my suit alone"

"Uhhh… ok bro didn't know you were into that shit but-"

"I'M NOT INTO SHIT-"

"Do we get a choice in this matter or are we required to watch Benrey take your damn clothes off?" Bubby clicked his tongue and scrunched up his face.

"I didn't- you don't have to. Ugh"

"LOOK GORDON- Gordon, you don't need to be ashamed! We already know you're a nasty little suit remover!"

Gordon buried his head in his hands. Why? Why is this his life? He just shakes in frustration. He feels a comforting hand on his back a moment later and turns to see Tommy, giving him a reassuring look and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Coomer comes over a moment later, looking a little sheepish. 

"Sorry Gor-Gordon… you know how my mouth is"

Gordon just nods and pulls Coomer into a cuddle, Tommy as well. He knows it's all in jest and usually he'd roll with it. He's just a little stressed right now. He wants the clinging remains of Black Mesa removed and to just live here free with his weird little group of friends. A few moments later Bubby approached just… being nearby. Gordon can accept that this was the full extent of Bubby's ability to be comforting right now. Benrey moves over after they've all had a good cuddle.

"C'mon, bro, let's get that shit off you, yeah?"

Gordon felt a small smile on his face. He looked Benrey straight in the eyes.

"Start the show then. You going to give me some stage lighting?"

Benrey choked and a little bit of pink sweet voice floated up. He can give it out but actually receiving it back rather flustered him. Perhaps he never expected to be teased like this… he silently nodded and Gordon felt quite satisfied at having silenced him. The others moved away from them both. Benrey gathered himself and reached out beyond.

There would have to be precision here. Unknown to Gordon, there were tendrils now worming their way around the outside and inside of the suit. Slipping in via unseen dimensions. Benrey was cautious in not making contact with Gordon's skin. He didn't need to cause another anxiety attack, so he kept himself pressed away. The tendrils wrapped around the vital joints in the suit before elegantly spinning in place. Gordon would hear multiple slicing sounds and feel something whip past his ear, signaling the end of the HEV suit. A few precision cuts was all that was needed to separate the pieces. The tendrils then drew back, allowing Gordon to see them and their winding paths back to Benrey's form. The feathered ends gently brushed against his skin in an unspoken question. Gordon nodded. He was ok with this. They made their move, each wrapping around a severed part of the suit and pulling in the necessary direction to free him.

Gordon was free.

But something was wrong.

Scraps of stiff fabric tumbled off Gordon's body. The clothes he had been wearing when he put the HEV suit on were in tatters. Large holes appeared to have been burnt into them and the fabric that still remained was bleached of all colour. And it had reached his skin. It was red and angry, large painful rashes covering most of his chest and legs. Interestingly only one and a half arms though. It stopped at the point where his arm had been… removed. It was like a tan line but absolutely horrifying. He was distracted from his arm as he felt various wet spots over his body. Blood trickled down from all over him, finally released from the confines of the suit. His body hair had started to bleach too, at least what wasn't falling out now there was nothing to hold it in place. There was now just a mix of hair, fabric, and blood at his feet. And soon he was down there with it. If he could think right now he'd assume the HEV suit must have some kind of pain blocking function, at least for the skin it was in contact with. Without it, he was in agony, bent over and kneeling on his hands to prevent himself from scratching the rashes that plagued him.

Benrey had gotten a show alright, but this was not the movie he'd asked for. Initially, he hadn't been certain if anything was wrong. Maybe humans looked like that when they were peeled? Maybe that's why they usually kept their clothes on? But as Gordon started to shake and then crumpled down, he realised something was seriously wrong. Had he done this? He'd been so careful but…Did he accidentally rip off Gordon's skin with the suit? He felt a wave of nausea rising in him… and guilt.

"Now Gordon, what I believe you are experiencing is overexposure to the chemicals released by the HEV suit during use. The HEV suit should never be worn for more than 24 hours! Hello Gordo- my God" Coomer finally snapped out from his explanation to just stare at Gordon. This was bad.

"Wait… I thought you said HEV suits were designed to never come off? How the fuck does that work?"

"That is correct Bubby. The HEV suit cannot be removed and should not be worn for more than 24 hours!" 

"That doesn't make fucking sense but ok"

"Mr Freeman you… look like a Yeti that has been shaved with a rusty razor! D-do you… can I..."

Gordon just shook his head. There was nothing they could do. Nothing would soothe these chemical burns. Knowing the shit at Black Mesa, it probably was designed to permanently damage your skin cells. Because you know. Black Mesa is a fucking delight. He was going to pass out from pain soon, and honestly, good. He dove into the abyss of not having to be conscious while his body felt like a fire ant rave party.

* * *

The Science Team was lost. None of them liked to admit it openly but Gordon absolutely was the most competent of them all. Tommy did come in second and he had rushed over to move Gordon's body into a less awkward position, before going to look through their supplies. Of course, chemical burn treatment cream hadn't been on their grocery list. Normal burn treatment and fire extinguishers, sure, because Bubby exists. But this had not been anticipated. Still, Tommy was going to do his best, setting aside clean bandages and water to try and handle things.

Coomer had just frozen in place while words tumbled out of his mouth. Initially, the HEV suit guidelines are repeated, then chemical burn treatment advice, then it all fused together, before the distress just overrides any of his attempts

"GOR- HELLO- HEL- HELL- YOU- LOOK LOOK LOOK GORDON HELP GORDON- HEAL- NO NO NO- AH- HELLO GORDON- GOR- GORDON!"

Bubby glances between Coomer and Gordon, his hands aflame. The fire hurts, but worse is that he hasn't got a clue how to help either of them… he takes a step towards Coomer… then Gordon… before falling back into the corner, the fire growing along with his bitterness.

And then there was Benrey. Standing there, motionless. He could feel that creeping feeling of anxiety within him, writhing like a snake, pushing deeper into his being. He felt sick. This wasn't fair. The one time he could really help and… this happened. He was trapped in his own little world until he felt… something… someone, reaching to him. A soft cry. 'Benrey'.

He looked down at Gordon, still lying on the floor, silent. He glanced towards the others, then moved over to Bubby. He gestured for Bubby to follow him and led him over to Coomer. Bubby stopped short, an odd expression on his face. Coomer was still repeating his lines in an increasingly distorted voice. Benrey didn't understand. He thought the one thing he understood when it came to human relationships was that Bubby and Coomer were… well, they had something there at least. And if anyone could break Coomer out of the loop, it was Bubby. He always responded best to him. So Benrey made another gesture, trying to get Bubby to take the malfunctioning doctor's hand.

"Bro… please. I need space, yeah? Give a lil help? Take a hand? Take outside?"

Bubby sighed, the flames on his hands extinguishing. Fine. If he was the only one that could pull Coomer out of this right now, then like Hell was he going to hold back. But he really needed to work out something else for Coomer… until then, he took that hand, gently pressing it between his two and lifting it close to his face. Coomer continues his helpless speech but does at least watch as his hand is taken, meeting eyes with Bubby. He's willingly led out of the room. Tommy watched them go.

"Uh- uhh- do you need me to go too?"

"Nah bro, just wanted Doctor Coomer to get a break yo. Gonna need him later once Benrey's done his little part"

"What are you- you going to do?"

"Fix shit… I hope… but I need his permission first… can't fuck up again. "

* * *

Even in the darkness, Gordon could still feel a sting. Still, this was the closest thing to peace he was going to get, as he floated in his mind. A voice cut through his foggy thoughts.

"Bro… please bro. Buddy. Good friend.. please. Let me fix this"

Gordon was tossed about in his thoughts. The unconscious mind isn't always the best at responding, especially when you've just fainted. He felt like he was turning over and over, falling around and spinning uncontrollably. It was like some messed up rollercoaster. He just let out an odd giggle at it all before focusing on the voice.

"Beeeeeenrey!"

"It's me yo…. Listen bro.. you gotta… approve me… stamp my face… say yes to Benrey… please. I can't… fuck you up again, bro. I don't wanna hurt you more, yeah? Do you know how sucks that is for me?... Please"

Gordon continued dreaming, dozily turning towards the image of Benrey he was seeing. Even in his own mind his speech came out slurred.

"Ffffffffuckle me uppple"

"Bro that's… uh… wuh...is that… ok?"

If Gordon wasn't in such a state, Benrey would have so much to say about 'Fuckle me upple'. For now though, Gordon would feel the presence in his mind leave, and then a kaleidoscope of colours danced around him. A beautiful song echoed around, filling him with overwhelming joy as he drifted on it. He spun and twirled as a sense of peace and safety washed over him and left him blissfully floating on a bubble of Sweet Voice...

* * *

Gordon woke up inside a bath filled with teal and green water. He flailed about for a moment, disoriented and very confused. The bathwater swished about as he did so, the colours forming pretty patterns and... singing? Singing?! Why the fuck was he in a bath? Of singing water? Where did they get a bath?!

He struggled to push himself out, his body was incredibly weak. After a few failed attempts where he just sloshed the water about and flopped uselessly back into the tub, he gave up and accepted his fate. His vision was a little blurred… it did make sense that he wouldn’t be wearing glasses in the bath, but where were they? Where was anything? There was an orb of panic pulsing out in his chest. He let out a little distressed sound, which attracted some attention.

"Bro? Are you good bro? Yeah? You need me in there?"

"N-no!" Gordon stammered out and started to sink down further into the water. He closed his eyes for a moment and just tried to pretend he was having a relaxing bath day and wasn't currently surrounded by a weird magic essence in liquid form. Especially don't think about how an otherworldly terror is apparently just chilling outside the room, ready to run in if needed. 

Why is this his life?

After a few quiet minutes he starts to calm down. Slowly becoming a little less disturbed by the unnatural liquid, experimenting with it by splashing it about and hearing the different notes it could produce as it released a soft melody in response to movement. A sense of playfulness took over and soon he just settled into his odd little music session. He felt so much calmer… how long had it been since he'd let himself just mess around and be him? How long since he'd indulge in the things that made him happy? He always held a lot back… this was nice… he had to wonder if Benrey was listening outside though… he didn't feel as anxious as he expected over that idea.

"Benrey?"

"Yeah bro? You having a good time in there, yeah?"

"...yeah… uh. Why am I in here?"

"Bro… you don't remember? Your brain sunk in the water? Spinny around the pool?"

What does that even mean? Gordon just snorted into the water, which just resulted in him accidentally inhaling some up his nose. It tingled a little and made him think of Benrey gently lifting his injured body and singing softly, brushing the hair from his face- wait.

He looked down at himself… the bright colours of the liquid blocked his view, so he lifted up a leg. The skin showed signs of damage, scabbed over and patchy, but it was a lot better than before. It didn't hurt anymore either. He ran his hand over his leg, sighing a little. He should have known he wouldn't escape Black Mesa without some serious scars, mental and physical. The entire ordeal had dug its claws deep into him and removing it was never going to be pleasant.

But it was OK. He could carry on from here.

"I remember now… Benrey… thank you"

All Gordon got back was a little song, quickly muffled and then suppressed. That ignited a little bit of mischief within Gordon.

"Soooo… you strip me down and throw me in here yourself!"

"A- aaaa- AAAH! Noouh! Dr Coomer and Bubby put you in there."

"Awh, I'm disappointed"

He meant that genuinely, though that might have something to do with not particularly enjoying the image of Coomer and Bubby tossing his unconscious naked body into a bathtub like you would a fish out of water. There was a little noise from outside the door again.

"Tommy rinsed you off too! I didn't do any weird stuff! No look for Benrey! Just stood out here and made sure you weren't dead and shit. On watch-not watch duty? Check you doing the air suck. But like. Not looking. Bro."

Gordon was trying not to laugh at the way Benrey phrased things and how much he was protesting against this. He just presses a hand to his face and grins into it for a bit.

"How long do I have to stay in here then?"

"Oh… uhhh. You're good bro. Jump out any time. Can't. Full heal you. Some idiot beat the shit outta me and my powers are cringe weak now yo. So. Gotta be an epic scar boy for now, yeah? I. Got you some. Fuckin clothes. Gotta cover shit bro. Can't just walk around like that! Bubby would complain and shit! So like. Yeah. That's. Fucking. Good bro. I'll go. Be over somewhere yo"

Gordon could hear quick footsteps as Benrey made a quick retreat. God, he wasn't sure he'd ever really understand Benrey, but… he seemed to mean well. He pushed himself out of the tub (which he now saw was just a metal crate filled with water) and grabbed a towel that had been left out for him. Looks like the science team managed to be organised for once. He picked up the clothing, which included a t-shirt bearing the phrase 'My PhD is In  Sexiness' Where? Where did he get? Why? Whhhhy? WHHHHHY? Gordon looked around hoping this was a dud and there was another shirt nearby. No luck for him. He sighed, debating between wearing the shirt and just walking out half-naked. Eventually, he resigned to his fate and pulled the shirt over his head. At least it was comfortable and loose... and he could feel it. He could actually feel the cloth between his fingers and on his skin! Suddenly this was the best shirt. And certainly much better than the HEV suit. He walked out and found his way back to the main room of the STBFD. The others looked up, relieved he was ok. But Bubby couldn't hold his mouth.

"Oh my god, he actually fucking put it on!"

Gordon just shook his head and laughed, rejoining the team and sitting on a beanbag- when did they get that? Well. Whatever. It was comfortable. And he could take a moment to actually feel the beans, pushing his hand into it and smiling. God that felt good. He freely sunk into the beanbag and relaxed.

He was free.


	6. Skeletons in the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon tries to encourage the science team to consider the possibilities of freedom from Black Mesa, today via clothing! And feet! Feet are here too for some reason!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter features some body horror! And feet.

Sometimes we have to face incredibly difficult challenges. Gordon had dealt with plenty by this point, but often, the hardest of tasks are the ones you have to willingly start yourself. Starting up a group discussion with the Science Team definitely falls under that section. Gordon had played out the various possible directions he thought the conversation could go in a million times and yet he knew it absolutely wouldn't go like any of his plans. Better just get it over with before he starts planning for more out there possibilities, such as the one where Sunkist decides he has an opinion and can speak now. He walks over to the group, waving to get each member's attention.

"So… uh. I've been thinking-"

"That's unusual" Thanks, Bubby.

"I've been thinking that we should probably prepare a little more for eventually trying to live… uh… well"

He glanced around the team. Coomer's eyes are locked onto him, but he's clearly mouthing a Wikipedia article. Bubby's head is on fire. Benrey is sitting sideways on a box, somehow, and Tommy is shoving his face into the fur of a jpeg dog.

"Live… while not…attracting the entire world's attention." Gordon certainly hated it when everyone was staring at him and judging him. The others never seemed to care much, and honestly, good on them for living how they pleased. But he was certain not everyone would be as understanding, and Hell, even he wasn't perfect on that front, they still concerned him at times. He didn't want to force them to act as something they weren't. He had to do that himself for most of his life and it is not a good time… but there would be consequences if they went into town, punching, on fire, and floating ominously. He didn't want that for them either. There had to be a balance here.

"We can't keep stealing things-"

"Gordon from my estimations we absolutely can keep stealing things! Our current abilities and skills are perfectly suited to the thief class!" Coomer joyfully waved around a stolen credit card while speaking.

"Ok. We shouldn't keep stealing things-"

Bubby of course had to comment there. "Why the fuck not? How else are we going to get money? Start a damn bakery?" 

"Oh broooo, we could bake bread on your head! Haha yeah, Bubby oven! Unique selling point yo!"

"Mr Freeman… where will we get the fl- flour?"

Yeah ok, this had not been in Gordon's set of planned conversations. And he had tried to include some wild possibilities. Still, trying to predict the science team's actions would make an 8 ball spit out 'Ask again later' before having a breakdown, so Gordon couldn't really blame himself.

"Ok, ok, forget the bakery, no bakeries!" Gordon just waved his arms about in the hopes that movement would draw their eyes. There was a little 'bread, Gordon', but the attention seemed to come back to him.

"We still have quite a way to go, but let's focus on something small. I think it would help a lot if we didn't walk into town looking like a guy with three scientists and their bodyguard. People will think we're going to study them."

Bubby piped up almost immediately "I am going to study them, Gordon!"

"Yes! Me too, Gordon. We should establish the foundation of our research- HELLO GORDON" 

Gordon just rubbed his face. Yeah, ok, he should have expected this. God knows how long Coomer's worked at Black Mesa and Bubby was made and raised there, weird-ass morally questionable research is literally in his DNA. Fine, let's go in from a new angle.

"Ok ok, fine, whatever, do that I guess, but we're trying to not be suspicious. You know experiments work better when the subjects don't realise they're under observation right?"

"Gordon, that seems a little dismissive of the townspeople's humanity!"

Of course, Coomer, of course. Gordon is never allowed a win. Bubby tuts loudly in disapproval at him. Benrey is still just vibing on a box, grinning away as Gordon struggles to herd cats. Tommy gently pats Sunkist on the side, convincing him to move off so they can come over.

"I think new clothes are a won-wonderful idea, Mr Freeman! I want something as bright as the newborn sky!"

Thank god for Tommy. Gordon decides to ignore the muttering of Bubby in favour of giving his full attention to what he actually wanted to focus on. He whips out the Black Mesa Adaptive Communicator(not his own, of course. Just like everything else, he never got issued one. Instead, he got presented with one Bubby had looted off some poor scientist's corpse. Bubby had been far too gleeful about the entire thing), which has taken the form of a smartphone. He navigates to a clothing website. They sit down and Gordon hands over the phone to Tommy, giving an encouraging smile.

Tommy seemed little uncertain at first, mulling over what style to go for. He seemed pretty interested in the idea of designing his own outfit… almost too interested. Gordon wondered if he'd just been told what to wear for most of his life. Every minute or so he'd glance towards Gordon, as though seeking approval. A few nods and smiles later was when he found the confidence to make choices of his own. He flicked between trousers, skirts, and dresses, making a few sucking noises as he thought. Gordon has no doubt that Tommy was weighing up the full pros and cons of each outfit in his head. His colour choices seemed to switch between gentle pastels and bold bright colours, never settling for long. Gordon noticed how unsure Tommy still seemed, even though he had settled over the idea of choosing. Perhaps he needed clarification?

"Tommy, you know can get more than one outfit, right?"

"Waaah… Real- Really Mr. Freeman? That's ok?"

"Of course!" Not like it was there money in the end as Gordon looked at the credit card still being flapped about in Coomer's hand… might as well have a bit of fun. They really did need to stop though. They would. Sure.

The others shuffle over to watch Tommy make his choices. He eventually settles with his choices, including a few new hats to try on. Propeller hat would no doubt be his favourite forever, but a little change never hurt. Bubby seemed disinterested by the entire affair… until Tommy hands the phone back to Gordon, who in turn hands it over to him. Within moments he was pointing out various outfits and accessories and talking about how 'damn good' he would look in everything. Gordon had to wonder if Bubby had ever had any choice over his clothing preferences as well. His eagerness certainly seemed to match Tommy's, and he had no qualms about selecting several outfits. Some of the choices were pretty stylish, Gordon noted, but some of them… well… that sure was an eye-burning pink and green diamond patterned suit. Gordon tried desperately to convince Bubby to go back to looking at the dresses, after all, that deep red would look as good on him as the blue one, why not treat yourself and get both- no don't get a novelty tie as well…

"Bubby, your choices are beautiful!" Coomer's eyes were practically sparkling as they reviewed everything.

"Damn right they are, I'll be the most stylish bitch in town" Bubby grinned and shot finger guns at Coomer, who proceeded to mock swoon. Gordon ended up making a sound halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. What was he going to do with this lot? At least while they were messing around, he had a chance to look at things for himself. He was not going out in the 'Sexy PHD' top, not a chance. As he scrolled, Benrey came over and sat down besides him.

"Aww shit bro, you're not gonna pick something cringe right? Is that a full-sleeve? Come on bro, show us some arm, yo! Give us some tum! Oh, bro, fuck bro, you gotta buy some sandals! Show us your feet bro"

"Oh my God, what is with you and feet?!"

"Uh… I dunno bro… it's like hands bro… all wiggly and useful and shit. Or something. Cringe man, you shouldn't be asking that. Private thoughts yo"

"What the Hell are you- God. Just look at your own feet!"

There was an odd pause, the weird comeback that Gordon was expecting never came. He glanced over to see Benrey looking puzzled at his boots, reaching a hand down towards them, then pulling at them. He froze the moment he saw Gordon staring at him, but soon was grinning.

"Awww bro bet you'd love that. Wanna see my feet. My pro gamer toesies? Yeah, you want that shit?"

Gordon threw his hands up. How could one being be so impossible to deal with?

"Not denying it huh bro? Nah course not. You want the world to know? Maybe I should do a callout post, say you wanna see feet!"

"Ugh, you know what" Gordon reached down and started to take off his shoes. "If you're so desperate to see my goddamn feet, then I'll show you my goddamn feet. Don't know why you don't just look at the fucking scans or peeked when you took off the HEV suit but-"

"OH EM GEEEEE! It's time yo! Gordon Feetman! Showing me his footsies wootsies! Yeah!"

Gordon stopped just short of taking off his socks and gave a look to Benrey. "If it makes it shut up about it then I'll do it... But on one condition… You got me out of my HEV suit. So… let us see you out of your uniform"

Benrey shifted on the spot and the grin vanished from his face. His expression appeared neutral but there was a hint of discomfort there. A small trickle of sweet voice escaped upwards, a mixture of blood red and dull yellow. Gordon felt his stomach drop along with Benrey's mood. But a few moments later, frustration began to rise within him. If Benrey was so uncomfortable about that, why did he constantly pester Gordon to do it? He was only repeating the same request! What was the difference here?

Gordon's train of thought was interrupted by a loud cackle.

"Haha oh bro didn't realise you wanted to see me out and free yo. Full package, not just the feet, yeah? That what you want bro? Sorry man, I gotta save that for specials tho, yeah? Once we been on the full round, got my bar full! Gotta unlock those sweet achieves first, please?"

What? Not only had that mood change come from nowhere, Benrey was also making it even harder to follow along with his rambling. Gordon didn't even know if he was meant to apologise, question what was going on, or get mad over this. He just stared blankly. This made Benrey stall and rub at the back of his helmet, glancing away from Gordon's eyes. The rest of the team’s focus sits on them both…

"Gordon for 5 Playcoins I can pull up a full achievement guide for you! Would you like to authorize this- HELLO GORDON! Look! It's you! We can use you to get hugs" 

Gordon snorted at the Coomer activation noise. They're all pulled away from the awkward moment as Coomer eagerly waves to Gordon, then shuffles over to hug him. This may seem like the usual interruption, but unbeknownst to Gordon, Coomer does in fact have the fabled power of reading the room and wanted to offer an out for both parties. There was no way to focus on misunderstandings when you're being powerfully squashed in a cuddle. Eventually, Coomer releases Gordon so that breathing is possible again, but he has no intention of allowing the conversation to head back.

"What do you think would suit me, Gordon? I really would like a- a- uh- look Gordon! Ropes!"

"Uhh. Don't think you can wear ropes, Dr Coomer…"

There's a pause and Gordon quickly speaks before any additional comments can be made.

"At least not in a way that would be appropriate for going out in public"

There are a few choked laughs. Coomer looks embarrassed but there's a grin on his face too. At the very least his little ploy had worked. The group was soon back to a fashion debate, with Bubby giving a lot of suggestions for what he thought Coomer should wear. Gordon had to raise an eyebrow at a few of the suggestions, he couldn't tell if Bubby was teasing Coomer or not. Eventually, several reasonable choices are made… and some less so. But Hell, let them have their fun. 

Once everyone had got their go on the virtual catwalk (except Benrey, who came and went like a cat at a door), it was already fairly late. Gordon complied with Coomer's request for a story, one about a fluffy bunny, before settling down himself.

"Goodnight Doctor Coomer! Goodnight Bubby! Goodnight Tommy!... night Benrey, I guess, even though you don't fucking sleep!"

"Hello- Goodnight Gordon!"

"...g'night"

"Sleep well, Mr Freeman!"

"..."

With the fairly standard sleep routine, Gordon rolled over and shut his eyes, preparing to wait a while for sleep to come to him. He hadn't been sleeping well of late. There were multiple reasons, one which he kept guarded to himself. He didn't want to raise any alarm over what would probably pass soon enough… but right now something else was leaving him restless. He couldn't stop thinking about Benrey's odd behaviour earlier. Well. Odd could apply to any of his behaviour, but that reaction to removing his uniform stuck out as an anomaly compared to the... 'norm'. His expression, the silence, and then the teasing outburst to try and bury the moment.

As the time ticked on, Gordon wondered how many of Benrey's seemingly senseless speeches were a defence mechanism. How much was he trying to hide? When he thought about it, how much did they truly know about him in the end? He was some otherworldly entity… uhhh… he enjoys video games… Mr Coolatta wanted him dead? Maybe? Couldn't even be sure of that because Mr Coolatta (or G-Man?) was an enigma himself. The more Gordon reflected on it, the less he felt he knew about this being that rested only a few feet away… that had at one point towered over him, able to crush him in a second or warp his mind…

Considering all the weird shit Benrey did and said, how could such a benign request cause discomfort?

He shifted after a while, as though changing his position would clear his thoughts. He didn't dare look over at that askew clock, that they had hung up rather hastily and now at a glance made everything seem later than it was. The last thing he needed was to actually know how long he'd been mulling over Benrey's existence. But it was clear it had been some time and sleep wasn't coming. So he pushed himself up and quietly crept up the stairs. Didn’t want to trigger the Science Team's follow the Gordon mode while they were trying to sleep.

Once he was upstairs he headed towards the roof access, climbing his way up and exiting out of the door, grabbing a blanket that had been left to the side. He laid it out on the flat roof, before lying down to look up at the sky. It was partially cloudy but the brightest stars were twinkling through. Whenever he felt like things were weighing him down, he could always look to the sky. The stretching expanse that reminded him how far they had come. He had never had such a clear view, not from his house and certainly not while in the underground depths of Black Mesa. Wonder if Black Mesa has an astronomy department? Or well, had. He grinned a little at that. Honestly though, knowing Black Mesa it was probably more likely they had an astrology department. Well, it didn't matter now. He could gaze at those stars without a worry about plotting, tracking, or invoking their power.

His peaceful moment was interrupted by an odd sound. A near-constant mumbling, from somewhere below. Gordon crawled across the roof and over to the safety railing. A fiery red orb shot up from the side of the building, then several more, accompanied by a strained sounding song. Gordon flinched and shuffled back a bit, taking a moment to listen. It didn't sound unpleasant so much as it felt like it carried unpleasant feelings. A vent of frustration. He didn't understand how he knew that, but he did… and it didn't feel like it was an attack. He didn't feel unsafe. So he crept closer, though kept down low. The mumbling slowly became clearer, until he could distinguish the words.

".... I can't just do shit ugh this fucking cringe ass bullshit can't even control this fucking shitty ass form gonna try change my clothes, make everyone scared run screaming aaa oh look at him freaky fuck, deserve it don't I? Yeah I fucked up. Big large fuck up. Can't even do shit now. Gonna make em all mad. They gonna hate me. Maybe already do! Yeah… yeah… yeah...whatever bro, haha, shit what like I care like what I care I care I care..." 

The red orbs were replaced by deep blue ones and the notes soon were filled with anguish. Gordon heard a soft little cry of distress. He peeked over the edge to look down. He could make out Benrey, sitting outside of the STBFD. His arms were tightly wrapped around himself and he was making a bunch of hissing and snarl-like sounds, words failing him. Gordon didn't know what to do… he wanted to check on him. But he didn't exactly want to approach an otherworldly beast mid-crisis.

He was frozen on the roof for who knows how long, until he noticed the orbs changing, back to a recognisable blue. The first colour of Sweet Voice that he had seen. Used for calming, right? He hoped that meant that Benrey was calmer now. As he debated heading down there to talk, he peeked over to see how things were… Benrey was staring at his boot, and while it was hard to make out, he looked like he was concentrating. His fists were balled up and he squeezed his eyes closed… and then something changed. The boot on his right leg started to twist and stretch out. Gordon felt deeply unsettled. It was as though Benrey was made out of stretchy slime, unnaturally transforming to a new shape. Gordon couldn't help but imagine his own body doing that. Would it be painful? How did it work? How did it feel? The scientific fascination was starting to kick in. Now he couldn't tear his eyes away, even as he started to feel a little queasy. The changes continued as the sculptor remained unaware of his nauseous audience. The front of the boot split into 5 little segments… toes. They wiggled a little and there's a chuckle from their owner. The colour of the skin from the leg begins to spread downwards, blending itself into the darkness of the boots, before replacing it entirely. Gordon felt like he should have looked away ages ago, it felt wrong to still be watching. Hell, Benrey had been right. He was looking at feet! What the Hell was happening here? He needed to stop… yet he didn't. Soon there was a fairly normal-looking foot at the end of Benrey's leg. He looked pretty satisfied with it.

"Aww man wait til I show Feetman, he gonna have to face the feets, gonna catch him out with alpha gamer feet-"

Benrey was cut off as an invisible force slammed him down, pinning him to the ground. Gordon watched in horror as the foot twitched and spasmed, no longer under Benrey's control. First, it stretched out, claws developing and webbing appearing between the toes. Then it flickered and split into parts that were misaligned, much like a graphical glitch. There was a dark blue liquid leaking from the ends of each segment. Benrey was yelling swears and the word 'cringe' over and over as he tried to wrestle against his own body. Ultimately he wouldn't be the winner here. The foot was warping rapidly by this point, before it finally reached a point of full rejection. It jittered, segments disappearing and reappearing all over the place, as the glitches spread across Benrey's entire form. He let out a garbled scream before his body froze up completely. Gordon hoped it was over at that. But there was one final terrible thing to witness. Moments after the freeze, Benrey was flung into the wall of the building and upon impact, scattered into a bunch of bones. Gordon couldn't move, the horror of what he'd just witnessed failing to process in his mind. His mouth hung open, as he unsuccessfully tried to cry out. His voice wouldn't come. Freedom only came to him only when the bones began to jiggle on the ground and pulled themselves back into a skeleton. A spike of anxiety stabbed through Gordon and he began to shake, almost falling flat down. He managed to keep watching as a dark substance spewed from an unseen source above the skeleton, covering the bones completely. Features became clear and soon Benrey was back once more. Gordon let out a sigh of relief… but it was followed by a weird strangled yell, as the pent up energy escaped him. He gave in to the trembling and fell down, keeping himself flat against the floor when he realised Benrey must have heard him. It took about 10 minutes of staying still and not being found before he felt curious enough about what had happened. He wiggled over to look down… but there was no sign of anything vaguely Benrey shaped down there anymore. Gordon let out a sigh and just pressed his head down, stretching his arms around the rails. He tried to think through everything but his mind seemed to melt away.

"You comfy there baby boy? Little Floordon? Do a weird stretch?"

Gordon snapped awake and banged his head on the railing that had been above him. A dull ring echoed around him and he let out a groan. He didn't protest as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and lift him. The bump-induced dizziness combined with just-woke-up-syndrome was too overwhelming to complain as he was unceremoniously carried over a shoulder from his impromptu sleeping spot. When he was returned to the blanket he had abandoned during the night, he proceeded to flop forwards and rub his face into the fabric. He huffed a little, trying to settle down comfortably. He was becoming more aware of how much his body ached thanks to his spontaneous floor sleep session.

"You… ok bro? You need heal beam? Lil help for the Gourd?"

"Mmngh… no I'm… I'm fine… was justalilbumpy…"

Gordon started to drift again, but a hand was placed firmly on his back.

"Bro. No sleepy after bump-bumps! Gotta check your brain isn't become a shit mess! Worse than it already is! Besides, gotta be awake, I got something for you bro!"

Gordon let out a heavy sigh, but he knew Benrey was right. For once. He forced himself up and looked towards Benrey, who was now inexplicably holding two paper coffee cups. He took a sip out of one, then offered the second cup to Gordon. There was clear hesitation as Gordon just stared down the cup. As if he could handle sudden cups. Nevermind that he'd honestly expected Benrey to just down both with extreme sipping noises, perhaps he could even grow a second mouth for maximum sippage efficiency. He couldn't help but think about what he witnessed last night, about the possibilities. His mind soon filled with odd thoughts about multiple mouths and compound eyes within more eyes and twisted body parts… making him incredibly uneasy until he couldn't hold his gaze on the cup. Without entering the haze of Gordon's mind, Benrey was clueless about what was happening. The only idea that he had was that Gordon was concerned about what was in the cup.

"It's nothing weird bro, just a lil hot chocolate. No pranks today bro, promise! Have a lil sippy sip?"

It took a moment but Gordon did reach up to take the cup, though his eyes remained glued to the ground. He brought the cup within his sights and took a sip…

Oh. It was actually hot chocolate. That was a genuine surprise if Gordon was honest with himself. It tasted absolutely delightful and the smell drifted around, sweetening the morning. Soon after the first sip, he popped the lid off so the topping of cream could be more easily accessed. It was eagerly licked up, some smearing around Gordon's mouth. Benrey had to chuckle at that.

"Oh shit bro your beards going straight to white, yo. Not even gonna try playing the grey level. You're gonna look like Coomer within the hour! Gonna be all wrinkles! Wrinkles on your feet, Feetmaaan"

Gordon snorted, almost choking on his hot chocolate and sending it up his nose. He gently shoved Benrey, while coughing and wheezing. Benrey just cackled and slapped Gordon on the back to try and help clear his airways. He rather enjoyed this particular form of 'helping'. It did at least do the job and Gordon finally looked up to his gracious helper. Benrey had such a smug grin on his face. 

"I'm not that old yet dude! Come on! I'm like the youngest here!"

"Haha. Yeah true bro. Little Gordeewoo… but you'll get old... cringe of you really, yo"

With the lesson learnt from before, Gordon had taken the sensible decision to not drink while Benrey spoke, saving him from another attempt to breathe hot chocolate. That nickname and comment made him involuntarily suck in air and grunt.

"Yeah it sure is. Big fail gamer moment there, huh?"

Benrey let out a chuckle at that but Gordon spotted an incredibly dark blue orb float up from his mouth. It was almost black… and it felt oddly foreboding just to look at. Gordon blinked a few times… for the second time in less than 24 hours, Benrey seemed to be hiding something, laughing something off…

"Benrey…"

"Yeah bro?"

"Is… are you… is something the matter?"

Benrey smiled and shook his head, but glanced away with his hand pressed to his mouth a moment later. He was blocking Gordon from looking straight in his eyes or seeing anymore Sweet Voice.

"I'm real good bro. Super sweet epic Benrey times here! Got my hot chocolate, got to slap you on the back, suns up and the vibes are stretching out across the sky bro!"

His voice was not muffled, which Gordon noted as rather odd. Still, that wasn't the focus right now. He reached out towards Benrey, who immediately spun around, making Gordon jump back.

"Oh bro you tryna be sneaky trying to cop a feel? Nah, bro, I see you. No touchy me up for you!"

"N-no I…"

Gordon didn't know how to respond. Again it felt like Benrey's mood was all over the place. Perhaps he didn't want to be comforted, or maybe there was no point in trying to apply knowledge about human emotions to an alien beast… but it just seemed so much like behaviour Gordon had seen in himself. He lingered with his hand still out, weighing up what to say.

"Look, Benrey…"

"Mmmm what now bro? Gonna say some weird flirt shit now? Butter me up like a toast?"

"No, I… I was wondering… uh... where'd you'd even get this hot chocolate?"

Benrey stared for a moment, then cracked a grin.

"Skeleton lifted it yo! Someone ordered it and I just. Swiped it. Like super stealthy. Highest sneak stats! Epic shit bro!"

"Guh… Benrey that's… look that's cool and all, but we can't keep stealing things, I said this last night! But especially with skeletons! What are people going to think if they see skeletons wandering about! You're gonna get hunted by an angry mob or something!"

"Wuh- why- wuh… oh nah bro, bro you got it all wrong bro! People can't see me or my skeletons, yo! Only when I want to be viewed! Like when I was saying big hellos to you! But you shot my song of trust so I went all sneak sneak. Broke my heart yo" Benrey pretends to wipe away a tear as he speaks.

Gordon knew what he was referring too but… something else stuck out to him there. Something that made his head spin.

"...but... I could still see you… all those times"

"Haha what nah… Nah I… oh but you… yeah you fucking… what… shit bro… haha…" Benrey looked like he was doing some quick thinking… and panicking.

"Uhhh...I… I was messing with you yeah. Yeah. You were meant to see shit… fuck you up but…ah… not… I mean it wasn't l… haha what the fuck you talking about bro can't see shit… see bro, can't see that!"

Benrey gestures towards a skeleton that Gordon most definitely can see. He stares, then blinks a few times. still there. Was Benrey just fucking with him? Trying to make him feel like something must be wrong? Gordon glanced towards Benrey, trying to work out what the Hell was going on, and Benrey's face seemed to genuinely fall. The skeleton moved and Gordon immediately snapped back to watching it. He didn't trust the damn thing. It slowly raised an arm. Gordon's eyes followed it perfectly.

"Shit"

By the time Gordon had switched back to looking at Benrey, there was no Benrey. The skeleton was gone by the time he looked back. Gordon was left on the roof with nothing but a half-drunk hot chocolate and a lot of confusion.

He just wanted to buy some goddamn clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro, you good? You worried? Nah bro, it's all good yo! I'm way good!


	7. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon reviews the chaos of the past few days and faces up to his nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains anxiety attacks and some more eldritch nonsense!

It had been an eventful start to life at the STBFD. It was never going to go smoothly, sure, Gordon knew that well enough. But problems were popping up like weeds. Things that couldn't have been considered in the midst of an alien invasion. What had upset Coomer so much the other day? And what about Bubby? Sure he was... prickly, to say the least. But he'd always been rather loud and present, eager to provide his opinions whether you wanted them or not. If he was ever gone for more than a few minutes during their previous adventures he'd either come back screaming… or have been scheming. Yet recently he'd been isolating himself and it was different. He seemed reluctant to return and when he did come back he wouldn't have that malicious grin or be rubbing his hands together. Those actions were the signature of "I've just had a terrible and brilliant idea Gordon". They'd all seen him eyeing up lasers and guns, muttering away about god knows what. Honestly, it was a surprise he hadn't taken over the world already.

But no, this wasn't like that at all. It was like he was trying to hide, like a little turtle retreating into his shell. God, that image didn't suit him at all. Bubby could be one Hell of a coward, frequently fleeing from danger or shielding behind someone else. But he doesn't quietly withdraw from it all, the grumpy bastard loved to terrorize them. It was especially unusual for him to not be around Coomer… yet now he even gave the sweet old scientist a wide berth. Perhaps that was what had upset Coomer? God knows!

It wasn't just them though. Gordon still felt ashamed and stupid from having that anxiety attack. It didn't matter how many times he told himself not to think like that. Once that little thought is gnawing at your brain it can be incredibly hard to shift it as it shoves its roots in. Now Gordon doubted everything. Did the science team even like him? Were they even capable of liking someone like him? And what about Benrey? What was going on with him? Gordon still felt queasy when he thought of Benrey convulsing on the ground. He wouldn't admit to it but Gordon was sure he'd somehow transferred the attack? He'd still felt like he should have been having an attack when he'd woken up but… it was like his body couldn't? Then there was the HEV suit removal. He hadn't thought much on it at the time, but now he kept thinking over that transferred memory of Benrey holding his body, emotions of guilt, fear and… something else. He didn't know what to think… or why he revisited it so frequently. Then that night on the roof. Those constant shifting moods, the whole foot thing, the skeletons. None of it made any sense. Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head. Why was shit always so complicated?

"Mr Freeman? D-do you need a soda?"

And there was Tommy, always trying to help. He seemed to be handling things best out of all of them, but the atmosphere wasn't something he could ignore and it must be taking its toll. He and Sunkist were having to run a one-man and his dog motivational team. Gordon just wanted to be better for him. For all of them. He forced a smile up at Tommy.

"I'm not thirsty, thank you, Tommy. How you hanging in there?" There was a distant 'Gordon, I'm thirsty' from the other side of the room.

"I'm uh… I'm good Mr Freeman! Just… just…"

"I know. I know… we gotta keep going. You and Sunkist are really helping out and-"

"You can, uh, can talk about things with me, Mr Freeman!" Tommy placed a hand on Gordon's shoulder.

Gordon sighed and rubbed his face. He knew Tommy would listen, Hell, maybe he’d even offer advice, but he hardly understood what was going on himself right now. He couldn't put it into words. Honestly, he'd been trying to avoid thinking too much(and failing), because there had been a few other things that had happened that weighed heavy on his mind.

* * *

It had started the night after the grocery trip. He'd just assumed it was a side effect of his anxiety spiking again. A looming figure that visited him in the night. Indescribable. Threatening. It would never speak yet it was clear that it was repulsed by him. Initially, Gordon was convinced it was some manifestation of his self-loathing. Yet it felt so alien… not a part of him. After that night he woke up in a sweat, feeling as though a million eyes had glared at him while he slept.

It happened again and again. The dream had been just the same, not occurring every night, but frequently enough that it left him nervous and unsure of himself. He never was one for reading into dreams(too many ones about the patented suit station not giving him pants) but this one was really sticking with him. Still, he didn't believe that the science team would take it seriously. So he didn’t speak of it and endured the silent judgment each night.

Something had changed last night. He hadn't been able to settle at all, which he was pretty used to by now. He'd had to try and sleep in some pretty uncomfortable and dangerous situations, and even if they had a bunch of mattresses now, his body had yet to let go of its high alert state. It was why he ended up dwelling on Benrey's actions so much that other night. This time though… something felt deeply wrong. That feeling only increased when he turned on his side and noticed Benrey staring… at him? Through him? It didn’t feel right. No matter where he looked, he couldn’t meet Benrey’s gaze. And Benrey seemed completely unaware of him. Gordon stood up and cautiously walked towards him. A little bit of sweet voice drifted from his mouth, yellow to blue. Gordon wished Tommy was awake right now to translate for him. He waved his hand in front of Benrey's face. No response…

"Benrey?"

There was a flicker there. Gordon could have sworn he saw something bright within the shadows of Benrey's helmet, just for a second. He didn't even understand how those shadows worked. Benrey could be staring right into the sun (which Gordon had tried to stop, only to get teased for trying to protect an elder god from an 'ickle wickle lighty'), but those shadows would persist all the same. He peered closer, trying to make out the outline of Benrey's head, or perhaps a strand of hair. He moved just a little nearer-

"Bro. You tryna kiss me? Sneaking up to make the moves? Need a little comfort smoochie?"

Gordon stumbled back, stuttering and shaking his head. Benrey's eyes seemed to glow as they locked onto him, finally looking directly at him instead of through him. No. They were glowing for sure. Gordon felt afraid, various memories pushing into his mind. The inhuman warping of Benrey's body, many eyes appearing and glaring at him. Then that looming figure again, standing back and observing everything. Watching as Gordon ran in fear, as the Sweet Voice encased him, as Benrey writhed in pain. Enjoying the performance. Gordon felt sick. He shuddered, pressing himself into Benrey's embrace-

Wait. When did he end up in Benrey's arms? Why was he crying? He looked up at Benrey, but the moment that it became clear he was conscious, Benrey quickly moved away. Gordon wobbled a little as he became aware he was sitting on the mattress. Benrey held his hands up.

"Hey bro…Not gonna hurt you. I promise, yeah? You lost your awake brain for a second there. I caught you tho… have a little sit"

He stayed back, making sure that Gordon had an escape if he needed it. When it seemed like he wasn't going to bolt away, Benrey posed a question.

"You been having nightmares, bro?"

Gordon stayed silent… but gave a little nod.

"Yeah, bro… I could see that shit bro… it's ok tho bro. Not gonna let it hang over you anymore. Gonna clear it away if you want me to? Please allow?"

Gordon nodded. He didn't even know what he was agreeing to at this point, and considering the anxiety incident, he probably should have some reservations about Benrey messing around in his mind. But there was one thing he knew...he was far more afraid of that looming figure then he was of Benrey.

And damn, he was still afraid of Benrey.

"Ok bro. Gotta have you go sleepy times. Lil nap for baby Gordo, please?"

"I… can try… I… couldn't settle earlier I… could you..." Gordon felt the words stick in his throat. He wanted to ask Benrey for help… the Sweet Voice could do all sorts of things, right? But that was still a big step to take. Still… Benrey had done his best with healing him before… he looks up into those dark blue eyes, that saw far more than Gordon could ever imagine.

"You got anything to help with that?"

"Yeah sure… you gonna be good for Sweet Voice bro? No freaky?"

"I don't… have to eat it right?"

"I mean… it works better when eat. But. Can just sing. For you bro. Lil lullaby?"

"Yeah… sure just… let's get this fucking dealt with"

The mattress sinks under Gordon as he lies down. Once he appears comfortable, blue orbs start to float around above his head. The song accompanying them is soft and gentle, Benrey really does have a beautiful singing voice. Gordon wished he didn't feel fear and awkwardness whenever Benrey sang. He wanted to appreciate it a little more… the orbs spinning around in a mesmerising light show, the song swelling through his very soul, it was wonderful when he was too tired to be afraid. He didn't even realise he had slipped into a dream.

That was until the orbs spiralled away rapidly and dissipated, the blue scattering into clouds and fading away. In their place was that figure again. The weight of judgement began to crush down on his body. He felt so small, pathetic, a failure. There was no way to push back, no matter how much he struggled against it. He felt sure he was going to be smashed into the ground, becoming nothing more than a worthless pulp. Until suddenly the force lifts and Gordon sprung upwards due to the unexpected release when he was still fighting back. He ended up falling forwards, face crashing into the ground. He could hardly think about what had happened though because the entire world had been filled with a soul-shattering screech, that had begun the moment he was freed.

It felt like it took forever for Gordon to lift his head, the sound seemed to pin him in place. Even when he finally could look up, his mind struggled to process what he saw. There was one… no, I think it's two… good God what even were they? One was masses of tendrils trailing back to some central blob, one tendril covered in a dark liquid. The other was made up of a bunch of sharp shapes, disjointed and yet connected somehow, moving with each other but in no way that Gordon could pin as natural. There was a puddle of the same dark liquid underneath it, leaking from a cut that could be seen right through. As Gordon pushed himself to his feet to try and peer closer, he found it nearly impossible and soon his legs buckled beneath him so he was left down on his knees staring at the ground. His body wouldn't allow him to look, trying to stop his mind being bent to breaking point, all from just from seeing these...things. Yet there was no relief from looking down as he discovered there was nothing below him. A dark, bottomless pit was all he could see and he was falling into it. He could have sworn only a moment ago he'd been on stable footing, that he'd been standing on something. Now he was tumbling to the abyss, surely to be lost to it forever.

A tendril wrapped around him, pulling him from the darkness, which seemed to snap closed within inches of his body. It happened over and over as he was brought back up. Each snap was drawing closer to him, as though there had been several layered mouths that he had fallen into and now they were closing in order, trying to grasp onto the snack snatched from their very throat. Eventually, the snapping stopped and Gordon got a clear view of the jagged being, parts of it impaling through its own form. For a moment it seemed to be almost humanoid in shape, if that was even possible. But it was agony to look at, like the spiked form stabbed through his brain and Gordon let out a pained scream. The tendril shifted and covered his eyes, freeing him from the horror. It felt tender, gentle, as though it was cupping his face in comfort. The soft, feathered ends brushed against his skin and willed him to relax and let the situation be handled. There were a few more screeches and rumbles, but they were muffled by the strange embrace. It was going to be ok… 

Gordon blinks a few times, becoming aware of the ceiling above him and the mattress below him. Then a searing pain in his right arm. He grabs it with his left, panicking as he checked that it was still attached. A hand is placed on his shoulder and he starts and snaps out of it. The pain dissipates as he looks up at Benrey's face and into a spiral of pink sweet voice.

"Hey. Sorry, bro. Wasn't smooth epic easy win as I thought, yo! Gonna be ok? Need lil kiss better?"

Gordon opened his mouth to speak, only to end up swallowing one of those pink orbs. A second later he was playfully shoving Benrey away, as a sense of euphoria flooded his body and he started to giggle. The memories of nightmares and unknowable beasts were soon clouded by joy. He felt wonderful and he knew that whatever had been haunting him was gone now. So he eagerly threw his arms around Benrey in thanks, who just shook his head.

"Ah. You. Weren’t meant to eat. Opps. Gave you a little too much goods, huh bro? Just wanted to make sure you didn't break from think too much. About not thinky stuff. But uh. Well. Ok. Cuddle time I guess yo."

Gordon had stayed clinging to Benrey and grinning away until he drifted into a peaceful sleep. He woke up feeling befuddled, a feeling of giddiness ebbing away from him and leaving him a little lost. He was back on his mattress and he had absolutely no idea if any of that had been real. His hand searched for his glasses as he rubbed his eyes of sleep. The rest of the day had progressed pretty uneventfully so that Gordon could consider all the recent happenings.

* * *

Here he was now, sitting with Tommy, thinking once again about things he had been trying not to think about. The hand on his shoulder grips a little tighter and Tommy looks at him with softly glowing yellow eyes that were filled with concern.

"M-Mr Freeman?"

"Ah… It's difficult to explain Tommy. I never expected things to go smoothly but… wuh- wait-" His train of thought was derailed as he looked back up to Tommy's eyes.

Dark brown perhaps much so they seemed black, not that that is possible of course. It didn't matter though, they were the same as usual. Still, Gordon was sure of what he had seen…

"Tommy did your eyes just… glow?"

"Uhh… I don't think, don't think so. That. Would be odder than snow in June! But even if they did, that, uh, that just happens sometimes right? Like! When you see real fast, it uh, it's fine! Everything is just… just normal!"

Gordon didn't have the energy to try and argue on what is and isn't normal. He'd lost that battle far too many times with the Science Team. Honestly, who even cared about what was normal at this point? Well. Probably everyone in the nearby town. But screw them! Right now Gordon just wanted his little group, his little world to stabilise. When Coomer ran in from outside and headed straight towards him, Gordon realised today would not be the day.

"Hello Gordon! Benrey needs your assistance- HELLO. Yes, outside!"

Well, who knows what trouble Benrey had gotten himself into this time. Gordon pushed himself up and headed outside.

On the ground just outside the STBFD, there was Benrey. He was shaking, tears spilling from his eyes. This wasn't fair. He didn’t even know what had set this off, he had been a great cool moments ago. And since he hadn’t taken it from Gordon this time... that meant he'd permanently unlocked anxiety attacks. What fuck bro? What kind of upgrade tree is this? This is suck man. Do you know how sucks this is? He doesn't even need to cry or breathe! Why is he so worried about both? They all must think he's such a cringe fail baby! Coomer had acted all sweet when he found Benrey curled on the ground, kneeling beside him and talking softly and asking if he wanted him to fetch 'Hellooooooo Hel- Gordon'. But Benrey was sure that sweet old scientist must have been laughing his ass off when he spoke to Gordon. Then Gordon would be laughing too. All of them would. And Hell, he deserved it, didn't he? It didn't matter what he did. He tormented Gordon, he pushed him down, he traumatised him, all this shit was his fault. He got Gordon's arm cut off for max cringe points! Even when he tried to help, the anxiety attack, the HEV suit, he just ended up causing Gordon more pain. He couldn't even face him when it came to talking openly, but there was so much he should have told him. And as last night… he could have done so much better. He never should have let things get so bad. He's supposed to be an Elder God, for his sake! Yet here he was, pathetically trembling on the floor, craving comfort from the person who probably shouldn't have to ever see his damn face again.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to Gordon's approach and he just wished he could vanish right that second. In reality, he could vanish right that second, but something was keeping him lying there. No matter how loudly the voices in his head were screaming that he needed to leave, preferably for good, something anchored him to that point. And there was no escaping once Gordon's hand was on his side, making some little circle patterns. His body just sunk as he accepted that he was found.

Meanwhile, on Gordon's side of things, he just felt concerned that this was happening again. Sure, Benrey had probably transferred the panic attack the first time, but this wasn't the case now. Was this some side effect of them leaving their world, of leaving Black Mesa? Of being in a 'real' world. Or was something wrong with Benrey? Something to do with his defeat, maybe? After all, something clearly wasn't right when he tried to shapeshift the other night. Gordon didn't know shit about alien gods, and he didn't want to take Mr Coolatta's word that Benrey was collapsing in on himself but… he was seriously worried. God. He was worried about Benrey. When did that happen?

While there was a pause, Benrey made an attempt to escape via another means. The phone in his hand was a gateway away from facing everything and was putting all his focus into it. He couldn't even tell which app was open on there, but he stared at it like his very life depended on maintaining eye contact with the screen. He just couldn't do this. He couldn't accept help. He didn't deserve it! Maybe if he kept staring at his phone and ignored Gordon, then Gordon would get rightfully angry with him and storm off. Instead, though, he saw a hand appearing in his vision. The movements were slow and deliberate, so as not to startle him. The fingers wrapped around the phone to pry it from that vice grip.

"Come on, man, you can't keep staring at it like that. Can I have it, please? I don't want you getting overstimulated..."

He gave it up with such ease once spoken to that it surprised Gordon. Still, he didn't dare actually look up to face the situation, instead just laying there, staring into space. A Gordon appeared moments later, lying down to join Benrey on the ground, nullifying all attempts at avoidance. The Gordon will be perceived today. He waits until Benrey's eyes finally meet his to speak.

"Hey, remember the other night? You said you find this shit fascinating, right?"

Gordon held out his right hand, palm up towards Benrey. Everything was blurry in his vision, but his focus managed to lock on the hand. Man, this was a weird and cringe thing of Gordon do, so unhelpful. Real cringe ass, Benrey thought, as he gently took the hand with his two. Running his fingers up and down Gordon's. Gently rubbing the tips. Carefully bending the fingers to look at the nails. 

Humans were fascinating. So weird and squidgy and emotionally overwhelmed and soft and wise. And some weren't. Gordon… he was all of those things. And it was wonderful.

It was a little weird to be used as an otherworldly gods stim toy, but Gordon couldn't deny that it felt kinda nice. Those exploring little motions were genuine, curious and gentle. And it certainly seemed to have helped bring Benrey back down. The tears were wiped away by his own hand and the breathing was calmer. In the end, Benrey was still huma- wait no. He wasn't. But he was… alive? And capable of feeling. Of being a person, of living and existing. He just needed to learn. A lot. Gordon had to ponder on it all. An alien beast, paralysed with fear just as he would be. It was rather odd, but there was something comforting about it all. To know Benrey wasn't that different to him. And that maybe they could connect with that. He could help… they could help each other. He looked over to Benrey and smiled.

"So you gonna be my anxiety buddy?"

"Sounds cringe. Very suck. Yes. Please"

Gordon just shook his head as he helped Benrey upright, then supported him as they headed back to the dome. They'd be ok. Somehow. It was all they had.

* * *

**End Of Act One: Establishing Base**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've finally reached the end of Act One! I will be taking a short hiatus (two weeks max) before the next update, so I can have time to catch up on a few things! In the meantime, feel free to check out the Free Neo Science Team's blog to menace the characters a little more, or my main blog to see the other stuff I'm doing!  
>  [Free Neo Science Team's Blog](https://freeneoscienceteam.tumblr.com/)  
>  [Main Blog](https://fofflesnave.tumblr.com/)


	8. We All Have Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bubby decides Gordon has been hogging the spotlight long enough and has a terrible nightmare of his own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Terrible things happen in nightmares including; Loss of Control, Serious Injuries, Being Trapped, Being Treated Inhumanly, Body Horror, Death  
> Please let me know if you need anything else tagged or think there's anything I missed

Act Two: We All Have Secrets

Everyone has nightmares, not just Gordon. And he isn't the only one to have the privilege of a haunting experience. It is rather rude of him to keep hoarding the fear and attention, don't you? And for this round, they'll be no laughing off this, and no help from elder gods either.

Bubby opened his eyes, raising a hand up to shield his face as bright lights glared at him like he was in an interrogation room. He glances around, things seem rather blurry, but he can make out what looks like… one of the rooms in Black Mesa? What the Hell? Dammit, he thought he was out of there. He stands up, but there’s a loud ringing in his ears and he ends up losing balance, sliding down the curved wall behind him. Ugh… did he drink like twenty margaritas last night? Or had someone convinced him to start lighting up his own vodka shots, then down them before the flame extinguished? That always ended poorly. He can’t even remember how he got here… must have been one Hell of a party. God, better hope he didn’t end up dancing to Dr Feelgood again, he didn’t live that one down for a year. There's a few voices that distract him from trying to remember.

“You’ve contained Subject PD8808?”

“Yes. It wasn’t easy. Stubborn bastard”

“I’m sure you’ll be well compensated for your time...and other losses… it is vital that we start now”

PD8808? **PD8808?!** He gritted his teeth hearing that again. They knew, they fucking knew! His name was Bubby! Why did they insist on calling him that meaningless bunch of letters and numbers?! He’s not some experiment- well. He was but. But fuck that! And what did they mean by contained, he was-

His foggy vision suddenly made a lot more sense. Bubby backed up, running a hand over that curved wall… then charging forward and slamming his fists into the glass at the front. No! No! They’d put him back in his tube! It wasn’t fair! He didn’t want to be in here, how many times was he going to be imprisoned here? Why couldn’t they just let him be free? He let out a cry of frustration, then desperately started calling out.

“DR COOMER? GORDON? TOMMY? BENREY?”

He felt his voice wobble.

“Harold… Harold are you there? Please be there-”

“No, I’m afraid you won’t be having any visitors PD8808. You’re far too… unstable”

Bubby jumped and turned around to face towards the voice. It was a scientist, judging by the lab coat… and the fact they were in fucking Black Mesa…but he couldn’t see who. The blinding lights didn’t help and neither did the fact that the scientist seemed to be purposefully walking in the shadows. Bubby tried to press his face against the tube… that just made the scientist laugh.

“Oh, PD8808, don’t you recognise your dear father?”

Bubby hissed at that and loudly banged his fist against the glass, which did startle the scientist at least, but he was still out of reach. He recovered quickly though and just starting laughing more, his manic joy shoving Bubby down as it became clear there was no way to harm him. It took a few moments for him to recover from his hysteria before he could walk over to drum his fingers against the tank.

“Ah, you do hate me saying it like that, don’t you? I can hardly blame you. I hate it too. Who would want to be related to a freak like you? Besides, you’re just a project, an invention, a tool” The scientist grinned widely at that one. “I mean literally, of course… I think I do much prefer the title ‘creator’ or ‘inventor’. Perhaps ‘project manager’? Yes, that seems far less involved. After all, it was a team effort in the end, and you, you are just a project. Designed. Tested. Disposable” He took out a pen, booped it against the glass where Bubby’s nose was, and then tapped it against his clipboard. “Now… let’s see… yes, I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

“I thought you were dead! Fucking good riddance!"

"No, no, I was 'reassigned'. I understand the confusion, but I am far too valuable for simple termination. I donated myself to science and was rewarded. You should consider doing the same… maybe you’d finally do something worthwhile"

"Let me out of here you bastard!” Bubby scratched against the glass but only could make small little marks with his claws. He slowly slid down, continuing to try to damage his prison, but only getting a horrible grinding noise for his efforts. Soon he was at his knees, trying not to let tears escape his eyes. He didn’t want to think about the ridicule he’d have to endure over that. One slow deep breath gave him a momentary sense of calm until a chill ran down his spine. Something finally clicked. He looked at the scratch marks he had made on his tank… then at his own hands. Sharp claws jutted out, where once there had been nails. He stumbled back and tried scratching at his own hand, begging for them to detach, to be fake. His outburst drew attention from his captor who just tutted.

"Why are you so afraid? Finally, you are going to be used as intended! Fulfilling the purpose built into your very DNA. I'm sure your work as a scientist has been… acceptable. But that was never the primary reason for your creation. You know that."

Bubby could feel a painful twinge in his stomach. His body started to twitch and then his muscles contracted. A flame burst from his feet, quickly engulfing him. He yelped, the fire burning at his skin, as he tried to scoot away. His legs felt like they were jelly, he couldn't stand up, he just wobbled and crawled around the tube, before collapsing in a pile. More tutting.

"Even though your nerves still report the high temperatures as painful, your body is designed to be fully fireproof. You really must learn to control your reactions. Screaming is not necessary and will only hinder you. Do try and suppress those pesky little emotions and outbursts of yours, would you?"

Bubby could feel the world around him getting fuzzy. It sort of tickled as the edges of the world seemed to blur and morph, bright colours dancing before him… it made him feel oddly giddy and joyful. He started to giggle a bit, though he didn't know why, only that his entire body felt funny and soft. Some vague thought drifted into his mind and he spoke it.

"My work…?"

"Don't be concerned. All your contributions from your time here will be correctly attributed. To our team, of course. No one goes around giving the machines and test tubes credit! I'm sure you can understand that. You are a self-proclaimed genius after all"

"H-H-Har...Haro… Dr Coomer?"

"You really have bonded with him, haven't you. I'll admit I wasn't certain of that being the outcome, but it does stand to reason that you two freaks would make a good match. At least he kept you distracted…"

"Want...him"

"Do you, PD8808? Right now? In your state? You want him to see you like this? Perhaps… perhaps we could make things interesting…"

Bubby drifted, the world around him bending and sliding about. He couldn't tell if time was even passing as he flopped around his tube, his body taken over by maniacal laughing or weird squeaky sounds at random moments. He rolled about the tube until he noticed the glass was gone… there were scientists standing over him. Making comments. Taking pictures. Writing notes. Something about this really irked Bubby and a primal urge filled him. They needed to stop. The bright lights, the whispers, the scribbling sounds, the laughs. He held his head and groaned, before a sudden well of strength charged through his body and he leapt forward.

Silence. There had been a few loud noises to reach it, but it was worth it. A sense of peace came over Bubby and he could finally focus again. He heard a pitiful little whine from over in a corner. Ah. A survivor. Might as well put the idiot out of their misery. He walked over, preparing himself when-

"H-H-HAROLD?!"

A wave of nausea rose up inside him as he gazed upon his very dear friend, who was bleeding, covered in burns, scratch marks and bites. Bubby became aware of the taste of blood in his mouth and the deep red splatters all over him, his claws dripping. He felt an urge to run… maybe he could get help or-

"H-hello… B-Bubby. Hey. It's ok… shhh…. Shhh… it wasn't your f-fault… you… you… they said… y-you.. w-want to… talk?"

He couldn’t even remember moving into Coomer’s open arms, but soon Bubby found himself sobbing there. He wasn't sure how the injured scientist had the energy to hug him, much less to rub his back in comfort, but he just clung on tightly. He didn't know why he was so afraid. Coomer would be fine, right? He always rebooted, he always came back, why did it feel so wrong this time? So final?

"Excellent work PD8808. You've really helped to weed out some of the undesirable members today. I'm sure you'll perform even better once you fully submit."

Bubby turned around, glaring.

"YOU DID THIS- YOU- HELP HIM… please… please you can't..."

The sounds of gunshots ring out above them. There's a lot of yelling and the sound of approaching footsteps. Bubby shrinks back and presses himself against Coomer, turning away and just hiding his face in him.

"Of course if they see what you've done here, they may well decide the best course of action is to put you down. We can't have uncontrolled animals running about the place after all… and he can't protect you anymore, Bubby. There's no hiding from this"

Bubby just gripped tightly to Coomer's lab coat and shook his head.

"If you let yourself go, you won't feel this anymore. Your own mind is your worst enemy here. Let it go. Go to sleep. You'll be able to easily overpower them once you stop trying to repress what you are."

He was trembling, tears streaming down his face. He didn't want to but… he didn't want to feel this anymore, to care anymore. A force dragged him down to be swallowed in darkness, sinking into a deep abyss, drowning in his clouded mind. When the gunshots started to fire in the room, his last thoughts gave up clinging to him and his body moved on its own, charging to attack on pure instinct. Screams meant nothing. Nothing mattered. Not anymore

* * *

A muffled scream disturbed most of the Science Team, but thankfully for Bubby, all but the closest to him just rolled over and continued in their own dreams. His entire body was trembling, he couldn't hide that, so there was no use ignoring Coomer when he lay a hand on Bubby's back.

"Bubby? Are- Hello- What's wrong?"

"Damn nightmare. That's all. Go back to sleep" His voice was far too wobbly to not betray his distress, but he kept his face firmly pressed into the mattress.

The hand remained firmly on his back and soon another came to gently rub his shoulders. Bubby sighed, but he could feel his body relax a little at that. Even more so when Coomer started to run his hand up and down his back. Why did Coomer have to be so patient and understanding? He huffed a little and Coomer moved away… only to softly slide a hand down to Bubby's chin, to tilt his head up to look at him. Bubby couldn't resist that and Coomer soon got a clear view of Bubby's tear-stained face. He sniffled a bit as Coomer looked at him, trying to wipe the tears away with his sleeve. Willing the clear signs of despair that clung to his features to go away, for none of this to have happened. Coomer moved his hand, resting his thumb against Bubby's cheek, making small little circles there.

"It's ok… shhh, shhh, I've got you. You're safe. You want to talk about it?"

His words were so comforting but… they sounded a little too much like those nightmare words. Bubby shuddered and saw visions of Coomer, badly injured, flash before his eyes. A phantom smell of blood filled his nostrils. He pulled away, feeling unwell, and wrapped his arms around his stomach while curling into a little ball. Coomer stuttered a little, confused and shocked. 

"I don't want to hurt you"

“You won’t, Bubby” The hand reached over once more, but found it’s target was shuffling away, shaking his head.

"You don't understand…I don't want to go back to Black Mesa. But I need to. I need to…"

“Bubby, we can’t go back there! Hello! We can use, we worked so hard to get out! All of us! Why do you need to go back?”  
  
“I… I can’t. I can’t tell you…”  
  
He was torn. Parts of him begged him to run before he did something horrible. The rest of him pleaded for him to stay, to lie down and allow himself to be comforted because that’s what he needed right now. It was only a nightmare after all… right? No decision would come at this moment. It was only because staying was ultimately the easiest option, the one that didn’t require any action, that he did so. But he refused to move towards those welcoming arms, no matter how big those puppy eyes grew.

"Hug me, Bubby, please!"

"Goddamnit, don't… make this harder. We've already discussed this. You need to move on!"

"Hello, Gor- Hello- Gor-Gor I. I don't want to. I, I, I need to tell you that I, I-" the words were stopped by a hand firmly pressing against his mouth and a shake of the head.

"Please. Please." That second one was said in a quiet whisper, with every ounce of desperation clinging to it. At that, those green eyes flicker as though powering down and the rest of the body droops. It was bad enough being told to go find someone else, but now he wasn't even able to comfort Bubby. What had happened? Articles about relationships speed through his mind, ricocheting against his own thoughts, but no reaction came between them to produce the answer he needed. He had so badly wanted to be open and honest in that moment, yet he'd been pushed away. It hurt… and Bubby could see that.

Coomer freezing up was the chance needed, an opening that Bubby had to take, now he saw the harm he caused. It no longer felt easier to stick around. Energy that he didn't know the source of forced him up and made him scramble away, disappearing from the main room of the STBFD. He delved into the corridors and rooms of the disused science facility(that was their best guess for what it was anyway), with no thoughts given to finding his way back. Adrenaline was pumping through his system, keeping him running and searching. For what he was seeking, he didn't know. He hadn't realised how far he could go within the building, as he found some steps down to head deeper still, trying to find whatever he needed to fulfil that drive that wouldn't let him rest. 

He eventually felt a sense of relief as he found himself in a small office. He was far away from them all, the chance of him being found was incredibly low, and it was quiet and secure. There was a reasonably comfy chair he could curl up in… or rip the cushions from it and chuck them to the floor in a makeshift bed. He closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard on why he'd ended up here. Just go to sleep, it'll damn well sort itself out.

There's no rest for the wicked, Bubby concluded, as his dreams only stretched into wilder and more terrifying journeys. Why was he a car again? Why is he exploding into pieces, scattering across Xen? Why is he falling now, plummeting into a vat of green goo? Why is he lost in space, living his dream at last, but alone, suffocating? Why could Coomer's sobs be heard echoing through the entire universe, every single time? Repeat the loop. Fail. Disappointment. Pain. Once more. Failure. Again. Suffering. You will get it right. You will know no rest until you do.

When he snapped awake, sweating and queasy, he found no comfort this time… to be alone had been his own choice and yet, it didn't feel like it at all. Isolated. Lost. Hurt and hurting those around him. Everything he'd been told he'd end up as. 

He hated it.

But he wasn't made to like it. To be happy. To be loved.

Coomer had almost always been there, hadn’t he? Maybe he really had gotten too… dependant. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bro, gather round, hug the Bubby intervention, who's with me yo?"


	9. Hello, Bubby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to a long time ago when a young scientist met a peculiar experiment who lives in a tube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a loooooooong chapter. Warnings for mistreatment and implied cruelty to your Bubby, immoral experiments, usual Black Mesa garbage.

A set of double doors swing open and the sound of footsteps approach down the hallway. Various eyes look up to fall upon the group of three scientists, one following behind the other two who were in deep discussion. The ones up front were regular faces here, but the other, who was hard to get a proper look at because he was much shorter than those he stayed behind, was not familiar. The group slowed down to stop at one of the security checkpoints, allowing those curious to get a proper look at the young man. His hair was a rather scruffy dark brown mess, though not long ago it had been rather well kept. His round face wore a neutral expression, though the bags under his green eyes made him look far worse for wear. He didn't look particularly invested in whatever was going on here.

"Yes yes, here's our IDs, as usual, and, uh, Doctor Coomer, he'll be working with us for the foreseeable future, do try to make a note of that so we don't have to explain every single time." Dr Rodgers impatiently hurried the guard through his job. She didn't have time for this.

There's a little shuffle as the scientist she just referenced speaks up "Why… why exactly was I chosen for this project again?"

"Well, there were several candidates but you really ticked all the boxes. Our lead scientist earmarked you as the perfect choice and we do intend to respect his wishes, even in his… uh, absence"

"I, uh, don't recall applying for any projects down in Biological Research"

"Ah, you know how it is, apply for one thing, get set up for 20 others."

"Mmm… still… I'm really not sure if-"

The other scientist, Dr Stevenson, butts in "Well, when we asked about acquiring you, your team leader was rather eager to offer you up. Thought you could do with something new to throw yourself into. Apparently the team's rather tired of you being… what's the exact phrasing they used… "A mopey little sad sack"... And we are more than happy to have you be a part of this, whatever your role may end up being!"

"Ah… Dr Stevenson, please. Perhaps a little more tact. They just took his wife-"

"No. It's fine. Whatever, I'll do it. I guess I have just been an awful influence on my team. Great to know they have my back"

As they made their way further into the depths of Biological Research in silence, Coomer started to focus on the various conversations occurring between the scientists along the way. One pair stood by a door with a bunch of hazard symbols on it, some that Coomer didn't even recognise.

"Did you check the sludge this morning?"

"Yup. Still screaming"

Another two were just in the hall, one opening the lid of a box and showing the contents to the other.

"What's that?"

"The Hell if I know. Found it at the bottom of a crate. Wanna touch it?" 

"Hell yeah!"

Coomer tried not to think too hard on that conversation as it faded out into panicked screaming. This. Sure was a department. Much like many of them in Black Mesa, he supposed. As they drew closer to their destination, there was another door, reinforced steel and with several complicated locks and a passcode terminal. 3 scientists stood by it, one holding a tub of "Black Mesa Meat Based Nutritious Feed tm"  while the other two argued.

"Like Hell, I'm going in there!"

"Someone has to feed them!"

"Please, they're probably still going at the last fool that went in there."

"There's 100s of them, that won't have lasted. Now listen, I'll strap you in the harness and…"

Perhaps another conversation that would be better not thought about. Rather, he would focus on the door before him. High security, he noted. 

"Alright, you go check his vitals and the reports from last night, and Dr Coomer, you come with me." Dr Rodgers indicates towards another door that her assistant heads over to, before starting to input a code into a keypad. A few moments later and the doors slide open. She strides forward into the dark room, lit only by an odd green glow that just gave you the 'scientists fuck up in a horror movie's vibes. It causes Coomer to pause at the entrance, following only after some motions to encourage him inside.

The doors close and lock securely behind him. No escape route. Better hope there won't be a fire down here anytime soon. His attention eventually strays from how easily it would be for someone to get 'lost' down here to the large glass tube in the centre of the room.

"This is it, PD8808, Black Mesa's finest and most stable iteration of the Artificial Scientist project so far. There are several flaws, no denying that, but compared to various prototypes… well, the best foundation we have for an actual scientist from this project is before you. Made without any of the fussy incubation methods of your standard animal, and believed to be at the mental age of 30. No pregnancy, no childhood, just pure unadulterated science! Initial appearances don't suggest much, I know, but really, this is quite the achievement" her little spiel complete, she walks around the tube a few times, again encouraging Coomer to follow.

It would be impossible to not stare, especially once you are aware of the gravity of what has been done here. His eyes dart over the body, which was covered in what looked like a hospital gown. Floating in the middle of the tube, head tilted slightly down and arms wrapped around the stomach of the one they belong to. A couple of wires are attached to various points of the body, all leading to the top of the tube. A tiptoe closer is required to get a better look, though it is a little hard to make out certain features due to the strange green goo. Overall, a normal-looking human, though he does note some sharper nails and teeth, when he gets a lucky glance as a yawn gives way to them. Still, nothing actually out of the ordinary, he'd seen plenty of people like that before. The full force of what he's looking at hits him and he can't help but speak...

"Beautiful…" 

An eye snaps open, darting about to take everything in within a second. A loud thunk echoed through the room as the previously dozing experiment pressed up against the side of the tube, glaring down, teeth bared at his observers, though the anger seems particularly directed towards the one who just spoke.

"Idiot!"

That made the closer scientist jump back, while the other just shook her head.

"As you can see, he does have quite the temper I'm afraid. Which is why you have been brought in. We need some fresh blood and… perhaps someone a little more patient, to try and wrangle him into co-operation"

At that there were several more loud bangs as the experiment, who could no doubt hear them, angrily pounded on the inside of the tube with his fists. This elicited only a sigh from Dr Rodgers, who had clearly seen this many times before. "Yes, I know, I know, we're all idiots and you would rather sulk in that tube than co-operate. Still, I thought you might be willing to play along since we'll be letting you out today"

That comment drew enough interest that the banging stopped. Though it also drew concern from Dr Coomer.

"Letting him out?"

"Oh yes, we have a room prepared for this. You will be his first point of direct physical contact and be guiding him through some basic behavioural exercises"

There was a nervous look towards the tube. Considering what he had seen so far, Coomer could only think about the possibilities of 'physical contact' involving teeth, fists or a rather nasty kick. He was uncertain but was already being pushed back towards the security doors, then through them and over to Dr Stevenson, who looks displeased.

"Same nonsense as usual last night. You are putting far too much hope into this one. Seriously, we can make another and-"

"Do I need to send you elsewhere, because I am starting to doubt I can trust you to lead the experiment today"

"Ugh. No. Fine. I'll handle it. Go enjoy spending your time telling the panel how worthwhile this all is. Dr Coomer, go through that door, we'll let the experiment in to meet you shortly" 

Coomer complied if only to get away from the awkward situation. Of course, once he actually stopped and thought, he realised he was now standing in a room where a Black Mesa experiment with a less than jolly disposition, who had not had proper human contact before, was about to be released. There was no protection for him, just one big empty room and a bunch of scientists watching him. The door behind him clicked shut, reinforced and firmly locked. 

Dear God what has he gotten himself into?

An alarm blares out and Stevenson's voice rings out around the room.

"Tube containment disengaged. Opening the access door. Contact expected within one minute "

Coomer felt his heart race as the second entrance to the room was opened. He could see a flicker of green light, no doubt the tube. There were a few odd noises from outside the room as the experiment became aware of his freedom… only to find his movement was restricted to one particular path. Screeches, scampering and little clicking noises were all heard, before he darted in on all fours, glancing around the room wildly. He bounded towards one side of the room, only to find a wall, with a glass window and a bunch of scientists on the other side. A growl was directed over there before he moved on to the way that Coomer had come in… locked. He ran alongside the final wall, desperately seeking an exit. There wasn't one. He found himself facing the way he came in. A little whine echoed in the room, sure, this place was bigger, but he was still trapped. He turned once more and his gaze finally settled on Coomer, who could have a proper look himself now that green slime didn't obscure his view. Might as well take a look at what might tear out his throat any second, right? 

The eyes that were locked upon him, a bright electric blue. Best described as cyan, perhaps. Unnatural. Piercing. There's a soft mess of golden-brown hair, bobbing about as he positions himself into an aggressive stance. His features do seem a little sharper than a normal human when all put together at least. Coomer raises his palms up, hoping that his display will be understood. It does take a few moments for curiosity to override the aggression, but the experiment cautiously places a hand forward, then retracts it instantly. Huh. Nothing bad happened… he begins to shuffle over, stopping every few seconds to reassess the situation. As he draws closer, a ringing sound indicates the intercom turning on.

"Right, enough of that nonsense! Humans are bipedal! Stand up at once!"

There's a low hiss, low enough that only Coomer could hear before an attempt is made to slowly stand up… and immediately fails as he stumbles forwards, misplacing his foot over and over until it seems certain he will fall right on his face. Coomer instinctively dashes forwards to catch him. Those sharp nails scratch at him as hands desperately scramble around for stability. There's muffled laughter over the intercom, which only adds to the frustration and he unintentionally digs into the skin, drawing blood. Coomer winces and makes a soft little cry of pain. That sound is recognised by the other and he throws himself back, tumbling towards the floor as his inexperienced legs buckle under him. He closes his eyes, expecting his head to smash against the ground… only to find that after several seconds the pain didn't come. And there was a hand gripped around his wrist. Eyes slowly open and a soft whine escaped him as he looked up at the scientist who was keeping him from crashing down, without the hint of scorn he was so used to seeing whenever he failed those expectations.

"...Well, that is certainly not the proper method, but I suppose we can correct that behaviour later. We cannot have you develop such dependency on others."

Coomer felt a shudder in that wrist. He didn't know what went on down here, but he was feeling very unnerved. Yet, that only locked him into the situation more. He couldn't just up and walk away from it all now. So he waited until the experiment seemed comfortable before pulling him up, letting him use his body for stability. At least he was being a little more mindful of those nails this time, holding onto the lab coat rather than the exposed arms. He glanced down, looking at Coomer's legs. It took a moment for Coomer to register what he was doing. A few seconds to observe, then copying the stance, adjusting the angle of his legs and grumbling a little as he tried to position his feet so they didn't point inwards. He let go of Coomer with caution, panicked and grabbed back on, then tried once more. He managed to hold himself up this time and for just a moment, Coomer could have sworn he saw a little smile. It didn't last though and soon there was a lot of gesturing and pointing at the wall on the other side of the room, with increasingly irritated looks. It didn't take much to realise that the experiment must want to see how to walk and was trying to ask him to demonstrate. Complying, Coomer turned around to begin walking, though stalled when there was a crackle over the intercom.

"Honestly I don't know what went wrong with those intelligence injections. You were given the language abilities of a great speaker. We know you can talk. Do it. Mouth. Words. Out"

At those words, the face before him crumpled up. The balled fists and shaking body indicated anger, but something that would be unseen to the scientists behind the glass would be the tears forming in those eyes. Coomer mouthed a little 'sorry' towards him. He could have handled the gesturing just fine.

"Heeeeee… ghhheee hhee… huh-hello" The voice came out crackly and warped, nothing like the first yell of 'idiot' he had managed while safely in the tube. Perhaps it was something to do with being removed from his usual goopy environment, Coomer thought, but he was soon drawn back to the present struggle. It sounded like it was painful for him to speak, as though the words were catching sharply in his throat. A hand reached out to indicate that it was ok, stop, please don't hurt yourself. But all he got back was a shake of the head.

"N-no… ha-have to taaalk" The words seemed so strained, only bringing more thoughts to Coomer's mind. It seemed possible that he'd probably be able to talk perfectly naturally if he was given time to adjust to it, rather than being forced. Sure, he had all the knowledge, but that wouldn't change that he wasn't used to using his body like this. There's an ocean of differences between knowing how to do things vs actually doing them. It must be so much to think about and to have to jump all the learning stages of a child and just. Be an adult? A terrible struggle. Coomer felt his revulsion for this entire department grow as more little sounds of distress were ignored or worse, mocked. Maybe he could help a little here…

"Well! You shouldn't have to if you aren't ready!" He can already feel the judgement of the other scientists, but he would ignore it. "If you do want to continue, I can try and give you some pointers!" He could see that his throat was being observed and those sounds are taken in. He almost wanted to offer for him to come over and feel the vibrations of his throat… but that might be a little too weird. Something crept to his brain

"Speech is human vocal communication using language. Each language uses phonetic combinations- ah. My apologies. I've been working on a new project! Ickypedia! Ah. Though the name is pending… sorry, I believe I may be rambling at this point"

There was a shake of a head "It's… fine. It issss h-huh-helping! Hello!"

"Well hello there! Delightful to speak with you. My name is Doctor Coomer! May I have yours?"

"...no. It's m-mine" there was a small grin at that and while it took Coomer a moment to catch on, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ah, you've foiled me. I have been outwitted! What shall I call you, genius who thwarted my trap?"

"Heh… heh… Bubby" 

There was another crackle "No. Your name is-"

"Bubby! Bubby! Well isn't that just a delightful name! I think it's perfect!" Coomer shot a glare towards the glass… and something about it made the scientists drop the topic. They may poke fun at his expense regularly, but that was only because he never fought back. If he did, well… the idea made them uncomfortable, not that they could be sure why. At least for now, Coomer was placated with that silly name being used. His focus returned to his conversation partner.

"Hello, Bubby!" Coomer gave a beaming smile towards Bubby and a cheery little wave. It takes a few moments before the action is shakily mimicked. A few awkward seconds passed before Bubby took a single step towards Coomer, before looking up curiously.

"Ah… c-can we... g-et… hhhh, cl-closer?"

Well, if Bubby had wanted to lash out, he probably would have done so by now so why not? Coomer smiled and walked over, then let Bubby take a moment to copy him, meeting halfway. There was a delighted little grin on his face as he successfully made it and lay his hands onto Coomer's shoulders. Oh, hello. A curious little squeak was made and then Bubby started running a finger over Coomer's forehead, before bringing his entire hand onto the bemused scientist's face, travelling up to the hair, then back down over the nose, then stopping at the lips. Well. This was certainly happening. The fingers lingered there for a moment, flicked back up to touch his moustache, before continuing their downward journey, over his chin and...oh no. Coomer had already got the giggles from this, which didn't seem to phase Bubby at all, but those fingers were approaching an incredibly ticklish spot on his neck. He tried to give a warning, but the chuckles made it hard to get out, and the 

A hearty laugh ran out, which spooked Bubby and caused him to jump back in alarm.

"S-sorry I'm, I'm ticklish…"

A devilish grin appeared. Oh no, no, why dear God of all things did it have to go this way. How he wished he could suck words back into his mouth. But it was too late now. The ultimate secret had been handed over and Bubby approached, hands outstretched, preparing to give out a torturous tickle session. He was just about to make contact, towering over his victim when he stalled, hands floating in prime position over the neck. There was a shift in his facial expression, to something far softer and… concerned, perhaps? A glance over to the scientists who had by this point given up trying to control the session and were just making jokes about the entire thing. Then back to Coomer, those eyes demanding an honest answer to this question.

"Is… are you ok… with this? Not hurting?"

It took a little bit to process it, but the query combined with the look towards the scientists made his heart sink when he realised. How many things had they already done that had made Bubby uncomfortable or upset him? How many times had they yelled at him to stop doing this or that? The hands were starting to withdraw when Coomer smiled and nodded.

"I've certainly experienced far worse than being tickled! Quite frankly I would consider this experiment to be a rather enjoyable experience! Please, do continue!" That was the truth in the end. Sure, he had about 90 worries about what they were doing down here, more to come no doubt, and that soured the experience, but Bubby himself seemed far better than all of that. And he deserved far better than all of that. If they could grasp just a little fun from all this, then they absolutely should. Of course, any further thoughts about the situation would have to be pondered later, as you can't think when you're being mercilessly tickled. He wheezed and laughed as the lanky experiment delighted in getting him down to the floor, continuing his attack even as he reduced his prey to a puddle of giggles. The other scientists tutted and grumbled from behind the glass, you could consider this a successful interaction, but it was hardly in the proper manner that had been expected. 

But who the Hell cares what they think?

The next few days were similar little sessions held within that same room, though Coomer noted the scientists seemed to have completely given up trying to dictate the interactions. Yet, Bubby himself seemed to act a little more 'normal' each time, walking in calmly on all fours, then adjusting to two legs and standing up straighter each time. His demeanour seemed to shift, becoming less curious and more distant, acting more and more like the other scientists. It rubbed Coomer the wrong way. He knew something was up here, all he wanted was for Bubby to get to be himself, not what anyone else demanded of him.

For Bubby, it was a necessary sacrifice. He had adored the first session, it had been the first thing to really bring him joy in his life, but he knew it wasn't what was required of him. When he overheard the scientists discussing the experiment later on, it became clear that the implications of it all were that if he wanted more 'freedom' he had to act 'normal'. If he wanted to keep seeing Coomer, the one goddamn decent person down here, in his eyes, then he would have to show signs of development, development that they approved of, of course. And he did want to see that one sweet scientist again. Fine then. He was smart enough to convincingly act as needed until he got out of there. Then, then they could change things. He asked Coomer about his projects, about the weather and strolled around the room at a sensible pace, keeping all noises and motions to a minimum.

And it worked.

The day came that he was taken aside and told he would be going on a supervised trip around the facility. Not only that, he had also received his doctorate(who knows how Black Mesa managed to pull that), and was officially 'Dr Bubby'(they'd rather not deal with the name nonsense anymore). Now he was a fully-fledged scientist and he was going to taste freedom at long last. And Dr Coomer would be joining him on the trip! He wanted to jump and flap about in responses but restrained himself while others surrounded him. This could be his chance to escape all that shackled him down.

When Coomer arrived, he nearly fell over as the gleeful Bubby flung himself towards him- then quickly pulled back, patting his friend and giving out a little apology. Keep up those appearances, don't let them see through the facade. Let's just calmly walk towards the open door, like a nice normal pair of scientists. Out into the corridor, strolling along into the-

Bright.

Bubby couldn't help but screech a little and shield his eyes. The light was far harsher than any within the dimly lit rooms he had been kept in. Coomer had noticed that about the place but had honestly just assumed the scientists here enjoyed the aesthetic of poorly lit basement labs where immoral experiments occurred. Seemed like just about as good as reason as they usually had for doing things. Perhaps though, the reason was in fact that Bubby had sensitive eyes, and they had failed to adjust for that now. Coomer considers trying to shield him from the light, but his short stature makes it difficult.

"Perhaps we should postpone-"

"No! Dammit, let's just go" Bubby stumbled forward, refusing to let this go. He's going out, he's not going back, he won't give this up. At least he has someone besides his side who's willing to support his attempt to push forward… even if Coomer does think it would be better to not. But if Bubby refuses to stop, then he certainly won't let him fly alone here.

They spent some time in Biological Research, which seemed to go as well as it could, considering. Bubby kept to himself, only daring to give a glance to the other scientists. He didn't want to have to interact any more than necessary, least he expose his shortcomings, and everyone here was aware enough about the experiments to leave him be. Eventually, they reached the doors to leave the department and the leading scientists continued on, so Bubby would follow. He was normal, this was a normal thing. And yet, it became clear that he was growing more and more uncomfortable as they walked around. No doubt due to all the whispers and pointing. It didn't take much of a genius mind to figure out the source of everyone's interest and soon he was shielding his eyes for another reason. Everything else about him was passable as 'normal' but there was no hiding his nature with those cyan bastards. People must have heard about it, and now, he was no longer just roaming the halls with his fellow scientists, no, it was back to being an experiment again. A gentle touch on his hand pulled him from the spiral he was heading towards and a little squeeze of comfort kept him strolling. But once the staff room loomed over them, every wisp of confidence was gone. He pulled back and shook his head. No, he didn't want to go in there, where people would be standing around or reading or sitting, all idle and ready to stare if something different were to enter their vision. 

"Let's… go back…" he managed to keep his voice steady despite being crushed inside. He had wanted out so badly. He still did. But part of his desire was to get away from those judgemental stares and being treated like some little show for everyone to be entertained by, and this, this hadn't got him away from that at all. He sunk a little bit as his performance was discussed behind him.

"Alright, well, I suppose that will do, for now"

There was relief on his face, but it was tinged with despair. He reluctantly let go of Coomer's hand as he was shepherded back to Biological Research, throwing one last little heartbreaking look back as he went out of sight. Well, no good scientist would leave such a problem without a solution, especially after that! There had to be something he could do to make things easier on Bubby. Perhaps… there was something he could make.

As the next session approached, Coomer eagerly headed down to Biological Research with a little box in his hand. The security guard looked it over, opened it, looked confused, then shrugged and thrust it back. Whatever, it's not a weapon, do whatever you do. He's not paid enough for this. 

By this point, Bubby has been allowed to work within the room during the day, returning only to the tube at night. He's sitting at his desk when the sound of a door opening catches his attention, though makes no run for it. When that soft scientist comes through the door, holding a box, his face lights up- until he remembers the previous time "A-ah, Dr Coomer, we… we aren't going out again, are we?"

"No, my dear fellow, but I have something that should make any such outings far more pleasant in future!" He thrusts the box forward towards Bubby, who just stares at it.

"How… how is a box going to help me?" He didn't go to take it, instead watching it like it might contain a venomous snake, poised and ready to spring out on him at any moment. His concern is recognised and Coomer realises he'll need to dispel those fears himself. He opens the box and takes out the item contained within. A pair of glasses.

"Glasses! I made them myself!"

"I… uhhh… don't think I need glasses?"

"Oh no, but these, these are special! You see they are designed to filter out excess light and work like a one-way mirror! You will be able to see out of them but" he twists the glasses in his hands to show off the front of the lenses "they appear opaque to an observer! That might seem a little odd but several scientists use similar objects, so you'd fit right in… and, and you can adjust them! See, if you just" he taps at a little dial on the side and moves it "move this back, the lenses will become clearer, should you wish to, ah, reveal those stunni- ahem, just to prove you have eyes, I suppose… I did consider just buying you some sunglasses, I'm sure you would look very cool, but that might bring you more attention and I'm sure you've had plenty of that. Which is fair enough, honestly I much prefer- ah. Apologies, I do believe I'm blabbering away again. I do get carried away. Here, you better take them before I start up again, try them out!"

The gift was exchanged from one set of hands to another, far more shaky pair. The glasses were turned over a few times before being raised up and slid into position. It was bittersweet to see something he thought so wonderful be hidden away, but if it made Bubby feel more comfortable, that was all that mattered. He smiled as a few little glances around were made before it seemed as though the gift had been accepted. And then Bubby's words sliced harshly through the mood.

"What do you want?"

"I'm… sorry, I don't understand?"

"You. Gave me these. What do you want back?" 

"What-" Oh he was going to have words with someone about this. Did Bubby not understand the concept of a  _ gift _ . "It's a present! For you! That's it! A gift! You can use it to feel better!"

Bubby eyed the gift and Coomer suspiciously. He trusted Coomer more than anyone else, but he had  _ never _ just been given something without expectations. Coomer was bound to call upon this at some point, right? Want to see some kind of behaviour or an appropriate object in return? His smile and actions seemed so genuine, but every other experience let doubt fall like a dark fog around Bubby. Still, maybe Coomer would at least be patient over calling in the favour. Maybe he could handle that. For him.

* * *

Let no one fool you into thinking that Bubby was the only one to suffer judgement over this entire thing. Coomer would never let on, but he'd received his own batch of awkward conversations about 'expected behaviour' and 'being weird'. And when he had taken some time to himself to fill out some paperwork, a few days before the next session with Bubby, another one raised its head. A man stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching as the other filled in boxes.

"Dr Coomer?

Nothing but a cursory glance upwards "What is it, Dr Davis? If it's about the project again, I've already told you, Davispedia is not ever going to be a consideration. There are several options under consideration, none of which include names, as far as I'm aware. What's more-"

"No no, not that, listen, it's about… you know. That. Come on, what are you doing?" He closed the door and slid over into the seat opposite to Coomer, uninvited.

Coomer raised his bushy eyebrows. He had no idea what  _ that _ referred to, so he could only assume Davis was actually interested in what he was doing in this moment "I'm completing my application to begin training on waste disposal. I don't quite understand why it takes 20 years to train on the subject of cleaning up messes that only take 3 years of training, if that, to make… well, I say that, but I can understand why it takes 20 years considering the potential disasters that could occur from incorrect disposal, but still. I guess the problem lies more within the disparity of time needed to train between the two. Thanks to all that, if I don't begin now, we'll have a terrible shortage in time and I do find the subject fascinating, as well as necessary for the faculty to-"

"Really? You think that's what I'm referring to?" The look he gave was incredulous.

There was a sigh as a pen was put down. Apparently, Coomer's full attention was needed for some reason "Perhaps you should be more precise in your inquires. I am a scientist, not a psychic after all."

The unwanted visitor adjusted himself awkwardly, well aware of how he was viewed at this moment. He lowers his voice(despite them being the only two in the room) before speaking "Look man, I know your divorce was bad, but getting handsy with an experiment?"

The look of indignation he receives for that comment makes him feel incredibly uncomfortable. Still, he tries to laugh the entire thing off, but Coomer's expression remains serious "I'm not sure what incident you are referring to, but I can assure you that at no point was I, as you say, "getting handsy". He needed assistance and I was willing to provide it. I have to say, Dr Davis, that if your definition of "getting handsy" is stopping someone from falling over or comforting them, then I am rather worried for you. You must have some incredibly complicated friendships if that's all it takes."

"Oh don't get like that, look, I'm trying to do you a favour, you know how fucked up things are in Biological Research"

"This entire place is fucked up" The pen is back and scribbling away, in the hope that the conversation is at an end.

"I'm just saying, who knows what's wrong with him if he can even feel, he'll probably venus flytrap you or some shit-"

Coomer glares up, his patience completely run dry "I don't remember asking for your opinion. Get out!"

"Alright, alright! Fine! I'm going!"

Once the door closed, a snapping sound indicated the end of a pen. The ink splattered across the desk and the hand that had crushed it in anger. It was already soaked in by the time Coomer snapped out of the moment and grabbed a tissue. He sighed as he tried to scrub away the blue, throwing the pen remains into the bin. His stained hand was a clear sign that he needed to start up that underground boxing ring already...

His moment of anger was interrupted by a loud thunking sound in the vents. God, what animal had escaped the research lab this time? He looked up and let out a little gasp as he realised there were a pair of eyes staring directly at him from behind the grate.

Cyan eyes.

There's no helping himself as he blurs it out "B-Bubby?!"

A soft hiss from the vents in response "Oh my god, be quiet, don't let the whole damn facility hear you!"

"W-what are you doing here? Why are you in the vent?"

"Ha! I escaped! I'm free now! Who's the genius experiment, that's right, me, bitches!"

Coomer was trying to be serious but Bubby was making that incredibly hard and he let out a concerned chuckle. Those eyes kept staring at him, waiting, and there wasn't anything in him that wanted to make Bubby go back right now, even though he already was worried about the consequences. He pushed his desk over to reach up and remove the grate so his visitor could scramble into his office. There was a mischievous grin on that face, he looked far more like he had when Coomer saw him for the first time. He bounced around the office, happy and curious and he giddily looked at everything. Eventually, he clambered onto the desk and settled there. He looked directly at Coomer and said something rather startling.

"Let's go! To the surface!"

Coomer made a bunch of noises, opening and closing his mouth a few times, before shaking his head. What was Bubby thinking, first escaping, then trying to make it above ground? Oh no, that little face was falling and Coomer knew how weak his defences were when it came to that.

"Please! Just a little peek, that's all! I want to see the sky! Come on! Please, Dr Coomer, please!" he reaches over, gently tugging at the lab coat, and peering over his glasses with those goddamn eyes, pleading with all his might. Does he know that Coomer is completely hopeless against him or is it just by chance that he's pulling this off? There's a defeated little sigh.

"Very well. I suppose we can take a little excursion… but no longer than necessary."

He got a hug and there was no pulling away this time, no one could see them, so Bubby held there for a little bit, long enough that Coomer felt confident in lifting his arms and returning it. Of course, it didn't last long as Bubby started to wiggle in excitement and they headed out towards the Black Mesa Transit System. With his eyes hidden, he was just like any other scientist and no particular attention was given to him. Perfect. He could walk confidently and get out of here, nothing stood in his way-

Ah. Security. For the Transit System. Of course… well. Coomer gave a little shrug, hoping Bubby might play sensible and back down. He just gets nudged forward. No such luck it seems. Ok, they could make this convincing… provided security wasn't aware of the situation yet… Coomer reaches into his pocket and hands over his ID to the waiting guard.

"Here's my ID" it's looked over and approved before there's a questioning glance over to Bubby. "A-ah, and of course, Bubby, he's the experiment from Biological Research, he doesn't have ID yet, of course, but you've seen the supervised trips I'm sure…" Coomer was keeping his voice as steady as possible. Just act confident, you're meant to be here, convince yourself of that.

The security guard gives the pair an odd look "I… wasn't made aware of this…" The scientist in front of him was looking as calm as possible but internally he was panicking, wondering how badly they would be reprimanded for this. Honestly, Coomer reckoned could handle it, but Bubby… he was already mistreated enough. He shuffled a little in place, wondering how fast they could book it out of here-

"I don't know why they don't bother telling me shit. Well, all looks good to me, get on both of you" the guard goes to open the door for them.

Coomer just stood still for a moment, blinking, and trying not to obviously display his shock that they hadn't been caught just then. Had Biological Research really not alerted anyone about this yet? They did seem pretty proud, he could believe that they would hold out on announcing they lost their project… or, perhaps a worse possibility was that they hadn't noticed yet… that would require them to care a bit after all-

"Hellooooo?! Dr Coooomer?! Godammit, why are you just standing there, we don't have time for this shit!" Bubby had already rushed past him into the train and was impatiently tapping his foot. The security guard was also waiting, looking puzzled. Ah. Well. Yes, time to get going. Coomer steps forward, thankful they are the only ones in the car right now. He doesn't know if he could handle any more questions right now. He sits down quietly and closes his eyes for a moment.

As the train starts to move, Bubby presses his face against the window, watching as everything rushes by and getting glimpses of the sky and surrounding area. He's so excited but chooses to sit down next to Coomer for a bit. He's wiggling though, which gets him a little smile and eventually he's pulled into a one-armed hug. They remain in silence for most of the journey, except for one little moment.

"Thank you… you're… really something, Dr Coomer."

There's a soft laugh "Oh, I'm something alright!"

"I like that something! A lot!" There's a little pause and then an announcement lets them know they're at their destination. Bubby leaps up and eagerly waits by the door, practically bolting off when the door opens. Coomer feels a moment of fear, thinking Bubby's going to vanish, until he realises that he's jumping up and down, waiting for Coomer to join. And he does so, just as Bubby raises his head up towards the sky.

"OH MY GOD! IT'S SO GODDAMN BLUE! LOOK AT IT COOMER" there was quick tugging at Coomer's sleeve as if Coomer might have also never seen the sky before and it may disappear at any second. Still, he would comply and look upwards. Huh. It was pretty blue, wasn't it? He didn't usually take time to look up at the sky. Well, he was often in for early mornings and late nights anyway... It did seem particularly stunning today, though perhaps that was partially due to the absolute joy of the one beside him. He's bouncing on the spot, completely giddy at it all.

"It goes on forever! Look! There's no end! Can you imagine, being out there, running around, nobody watching!" He's absolutely beaming and grabs Coomer's hands, dragging him around for a bit, before spinning a little and plopping down onto the ground. He gazes up at Coomer and pats next to him. Come. Join the floor party.

As Coomer does so, he notices Bubby fiddling with his glasses, doing a few glances around. After ensuring they are alone, the glasses are removed and folded up neatly. Bubby blinks a few times, adjusting to the sunlight. It was bright, but far less harsh than those fluorescent lights down in the lab. It stung for a little bit but soon he was able to see clearly. No doubt the glasses had helped him adapt to light in general. Coomer was a little puzzled by this.

"Oh! You know you can just adjust the glasses to get a perfectly clear view and-"

"I know" there's a little smile there "I just wanted to take them off for a little bit" he looks towards the horizon, mind drifting upon the clouds scattered across that edge. He could run away right now and no one would be able to catch him, he felt sure of that, he was rather good at running. The world was open to him, stretching far beyond Black Mesa… but… he glances over to his companion.

"If… if I ran now… they would know it was you, wouldn't they?"

"Ah. Yes, they would be able to work it out, I am certain. Security does keep records and we aren't a complete disaster when it comes to written reports. Despite what impression you may have got…" Coomer knew he wouldn't have it in his heart to stop Bubby if he decided he needed to run away. There was silence between as he waited for that scampering followed by a little dot disappearing over the horizon.

It didn't come. Instead, he found a weight pressing against him as he was leaned on ever so slightly. There's a sigh. Acceptance.

"If that's the case then ...I suppose it isn't so bad here. When you're around, at least. I could stay… for a little while longer." He takes a deep breath, face cracking into a grin "Then we can stage a perfect escape! Together! I'm a genius and you're wonderful, we could totally pull it off! I'm thinking a car, some lasers, oh, maybe one of those experimental guns and one of those fucked up horses! We'll create a distraction and disappear off into the night like a pair of goddamn ghosts!"

Coomer can't help but crack up at that, nodding at Bubby's fantastic plan. He gives a soft smile and takes a hand in his.

"That sounds perfect, Bubby. We'll escape one day. Together"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gay lil scientists go brrrrrrrr
> 
> Since this one was so long, there may be a longer break between chapters this time around. I did consider splitting this into two chapters, but I couldn't find a particularly good break point(the line break would have worked but that still only trimmed off a small amount compared to the whole thing and didn't work so well alone) 
> 
> Now go give your local Bubby a cuddle


	10. Breakfast Bugs and Burning Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team has breakfast!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware that this chapter contains vomiting, self-loathing and a mental breakdown/spiral. Also, it's mostly angst.

Little cries ring around the empty room, with no one there to hear them. Bubby presses a hand firmly to his mouth, shaking his head. He shouldn't think about those memories, they only made his heart ache more. Yet still, his mind focuses on those sweet moments, both sides picking apart everything, desperately trying to sway him one way or another. How accepting Coomer was, but also the pain he endured for it all. His hands move up to clutch at his head, a headache forming as his mind split in two. A battle raging between his unconscious drive to hide, to protect them, and the longing to just return to Coomer, to the team. 

Time to think about some hypothetical situations. He could tell them, spill his heart to them. Expose his deepest fears and how much he cares for each of them. Then, in response, Benrey would make some nonsensical comment, with a bro and a yeah thrown in for good measure, Tommy would say a comforting, if weird, simile, Gordon would act all sympathetic and… oh Coomer… The tears prickled at the corner of his eyes. 

Maybe think about the past instead, find some logic there. He knew that he was lied to. Those scientists told him that no one would ever stick by him if he didn't act as they demanded, that he would be abandoned the moment anyone saw what he was. When he thought about the team, he was fairly certain that wouldn't be the case with the team. They'd been through Hell and back, after all.

But that made it feel worse.

They wouldn't run. They wouldn't shame him. They'd try to help. He can already imagine Coomer pulling him into a hug while the flames lashed away at his body. The forced smiles as he tore into them, the promises that it was all ok. They understood, they could fix this! Then would come the poorly hidden tears as the days went by without success. And he may not even understand by that point…

Those feelings wouldn't rest, piling on the guilt now they've found an opening. How long had he kept this from the one person who had only ever been prepared to listen? There had been so many chances, he should have just told him years ago! And yet, Coomer probably wouldn't even get mad that he had kept this from him all this time, no he'd be all understanding and lovely and kind and everything that Bubby couldn't accept. 

All those tests, all that scolding and punishment, the effort he had put into being 'normal', it was all for nothing, wasn't it? Trembling arms wrapped tightly around a stomach, trying to stop it as it gurgled from anxiety and hunger. No, if he was hungry he'd have to leave here and go back to the main room, then the whole team would be there and asking questions because he must look like shit. He's barely slept, on some torn off chair cushions, he's mid-breakdown and just a goddamn mess…

Still, the pit in his stomach only makes everything worse, and he'd never wanted to risk getting too hungry. Just in case. The prototypes always seemed like they were famished and they would do anything to sate that. He knew why everyone feared that room…

Enough. He grumbles a little as he forces himself up. What was he fucking doing, moping around like a little baby? Considering such stupid things. He's not going to just blubber out the truth, he's played off far worse and he can keep doing that. No one has to know how weak he is, how wrong, how broken. He can pretend until it all clears up.

He's fine.

It doesn't take long for Bubby to find his way back to the main room, slipping in and receiving a few smiles and waves. He glances around the group, trying to spot a certain someone… only to be distracted by the smell in the air… cooking eggs perhaps? The accompanying sizzling just tempts him closer… though he freezes up to curse himself when he realises he's salivating. A quick hand wipes away the evidence, don't drop the act. Be normal, you damn idiot...

Coomer is the one cooking, with Gordon glancing over at the poor approximation of a kitchen that they've made, with quite a bit of concern. He doesn't know why Coomer's decided to do this and he has strong doubts about whether whatever is made will be edible. Nevermind that there's fire involved, who the Hell let this man set anything on fire?

Coomer is completely unaware of any reservations the team may have about this and finishes up before eagerly bouncing forward "Good morning, Gordon! I've levelled up my skills and LOOK, I'VE MADE BREAKFAST!" he thrusts a plate of… omelette? In Gordon's face. "Taste it Gordon, please!" Gordon stalls, only to get stared at by a soft round face and big eyes. There's no resisting that and the plate is taken, though with caution, as though it may explode. Once the dish has been accepted, it is quickly distributed among the rest of the team. Soon only two plates remain and Coomer prepares to scour out Bubby… only to find that he's joined them. Within moments there's an omelette right under a very hungry mouth. "Bubby! I'm pleased to see you! Would you like to restore your hunger meter with this delicious-" 

The sentence stops there. A soft smile and a ruffle on the head is given to the stalled scientist, who beams, more so when Bubby takes the plate. "Thank you, Harold." He'll settle down with the others to tuck into breakfast. Hmm… not bad. 

Gordon has stabbed his fork into the omelette and is carefully deconstructing it, poking at some weird little specks with a knife and distrust. It could just be seasoning, right? Or an extra ingredient, for flavour. Everyone else is eating away with no qualms, so Gordon buckles and slowly raises the fork up, before shoving the mouthful in. Slow, cautious chewing. Well, it didn't explode instantly so that is a start… and actually… he looks up to Coomer "Ah! This, this tastes great, Dr Coomer! Is it just a plain omelette or-?"

"Hello Gordon- why no! It is a special recipe, thankfully we have plenty of my favourite ingredient" A slightly odd head tilt accompanies this, as though his neck forgot how to hold his head up straight.

Doubt creeps back into Gordon's mind, not helped at all by Coomer's unnerving pose. Oh no, what could they possibly have plenty of? "What's… what's your favourite ingredient?"

"Bugs! Insects! Insects or Insecta (from Latin insectum) are hexapod invertebrates and the largest group within the arthropod phylum." And if he goes, Wikipedia articling away and unaware of any distress he may have inflicted on the team with this knowledge.

Gordon wonders if he shouldn't have asked, and just gone with it. There's a churning barrel where his stomach once was and it's a battle to keep himself from immediately spitting out the mouthful. So much so that he almost doesn't notice Bubby doing exactly that and soon is heaving, horrible strangled noises forced out of his mouth as he tries to remove any trace of the meal. That makes Gordon swallow the bug omelette out of surprise, and he looks over at Coomer, who's clearly alarmed and confused by this. A few seconds later, Bubby bends over and falls silent.

"Bubby… is something-" the words are snatched from his mouth by the fierce eyes that glare at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! HOW COULD YOU GIVE ME-" Bubby felt his voice stick as he looked into Coomer's eyes. He looked absolutely shocked. Of course, he was. How can you blame him for this when you've never told him it's a problem? There's so much hurt in that soft little face, just from the yelling. A horrible swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach rises up, and not just from the food. Before anyone can comment, Bubby has vanished down the hallway, headed to the bathroom.

Coomer's eyes follow the retreating scientist and they continue to stare even once the hallway is empty, unable to break away. The rest of the team sit in silence, except for Benrey who is still devouring his omelette like nothing happened. Gordon eventually speaks up, with the only thing he can think of.

"Maybe he's… allergic? To. Insects?" It kind of sounds stupid now that he says it, but what else could be going on?

There's a little sigh and a nod before finally those eyes are torn away from trying to will Bubby back. "I would have thought he would have told me if he was but. Hello. Lately I… feel like I don't know him at all" Coomer just stares at the ground until Gordon moves over to hug him. The clinging is near-instant, as he tries desperately to hold himself together "I… don't know what I've done Gordon- hello Gordon… He won't speak to me about it… about anything..." he trails off, making a quiet little choked noise. Tommy quickly moves over to join the cuddle and Benrey gives some little pats. No one knows what to do here.

* * *

Things are no better over in the bathroom. Bubby's stomach was soon empty of more than just the traces of bug omelette, his body barely able to support him as violent shudders travelled through him. It seemed to last forever, and when he finally lifts his head, he drops it almost immediately. It will take 3 more attempts before he manages to stare at the cistern. Slowly, he'll push himself up, leaning his hands on the seat. A salty mixture of tears and sweat catches in his mouth, making him gag again. There's nothing left in him though… he'll take that as an opportunity to stumble his way out of the stall and over to the makeshift shower. After flushing, of course. Always flush. Benrey says so.

It'll be a long time between him curling up, fully clothed, under the shower before he'll manage to actually undress and turn it on so he can lie curled up in the water. He needs to wash this all away. Maybe, just maybe, if he lies there long enough, everything shameful and wrong with him will spin down the drain.

A dark thought stabs through him. If all that washed away… would anything be left?

He firmly presses a hand to his face shakes him out of that moment. Let's not think about that. Now. Or maybe ever. Maybe shower time is not a good idea. Too much thinking space. He pushes himself up and gets out, drying off and dressing again. Right. Let's assess the situation… he moves over towards the mirror staring into it, looking over his features. He had to know he wasn't like them. Slowly he opened his mouth- oh god. His stomach dropped, god, his teeth were sharper, weren't they? No. No wait, deep breathes. Maybe it's just his imagination. Must be. Has to be. He checks his hands… no claws, nothing from his nightmares. He fumbles with his glasses, trying to increase the transparency, before giving up and just taking them off. Those eyes, that gave it all away. Still there. Still the same. Had they always been this bright? Of course, they had. Nothing has changed. Why did he think that would have set things off? He's a fucking idiot...

There's a sinking feeling again, but this time for a whole other reason. He'd overreacted. He's yelled at Coomer, for no damn reason, because he's never bothered to communicate these things. Maybe he really was just like them…

He glances up in alarm as a spasm takes hold of his body and he can feel his features shift. But the moment he actually manages to focus on the mirror image, there's nothing unusual. Great. His mind is just fucking with him at this point. The sides of the sink are gripped tightly, and if there had been anything left in his stomach, then there sure as Hell wouldn't have been anymore. He stares downwards into the empty porcelain that can offer him no comfort. A shaky hand lets the side go to fumble around for the tap, filling the sink with water that was quickly splashed across his face. Deep breaths again. 

"Dr, Dr Bubby, a-are you o-ok?"

That was Tommy. Tommy was here to check on him. Not Coomer. How badly had he fucked up?

"I'm fine, Tommy" it took so much effort to hold his voice steady, to keep things hidden.

"O-okay… uh. B-Benrey got some, some bacon and, uh, other stuff, so, if you want to join us, we'll make breakfast t-together… only if, if you want to!"

Bubby took a slow, deep breath and let go of the sides of the sink to hold his hands together. Breakfast. Normal, bug-free, breakfast. He could manage that. He had too, else they'd all work out that something was wrong. And that would only lead to a terrible spiral. "I'll be there shortly Tommy!" was his weak response. He just hoped Tommy wouldn't pick up on it and waited until the footsteps told him that Tommy had left. That gives him a chance to go for a few more splashes of water to his face, wash it all away. Come on, snap out of it, you're fine. He lets the water drain, takes one more moment to himself(but not long enough to think about anything), then exits the bathroom and heads back to the main room.

Tommy returns to the team pretty quickly, giving Coomer a smile "H-He said he, uh, he would be here s-shortly!" As he speaks he moves over to give the old scientist a one-armed hug. "W-we're he-here for you! Like a, a p-pod of supportive dolphins out in the bluest o-ocean!" That does get a little smile out of Coomer.

"T-thank you Tommy" he takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes and composes himself. He moves over to the wall to stare at it, then circles around for a bit and then sits on the floor, facing away from everyone. Gordon moves over and gently spins him around which gets a little "Thank you, Gordon."

It isn't long until Bubby makes his appearance, slinking back into the room. He sort of wants to just avoid everything that happened, but he knows that won't happen, especially as Coomer leaps up at the moment he becomes aware of the Bubby. He runs over, trying to look as calm as possible(he gets the feeling that Bubby would not handle knowing how upset he was too well), immediately opening his mouth before Bubby can say a word.

"Bubby, I, I'm sorry I-" he doesn't get to finish his sentence as Bubby holds up a hand and shakes his head.

"No. I shouldn't... Shouldn't have snapped at you. But. That's just how I am. I'm just a bastard." He doesn't meet Coomer's eyes. He can't.

"Bubby! That isn't, LOOK AT, isn't true! Whatever is happening, you can tell me! HELLO, Let me know what is wrong between us" He isn't holding up that calm act very well. Pleading tones are slipping into his speech, as are his tics.

"Please. You haven't done anything wrong. It's always been me, every time. Why… why won't you just…" he can't say it. A hand reaches out towards him and rubs at his own. Slowly those eyes detach from that fascinating spot on the floor and move to look at Coomer. He looks serious.

"Bubby. Please. You need to know that I-"

"YO WE GOT BACON GOT EGGS, COOKING TIME YEAH. BUBBY HELP PLEASE?" Benrey's timing was terrible as usual, but Bubby couldn't deny he was actually relieved to escape that conversation, pulling his hand away and walking to the "kitchen". He had begrudgingly accepted he was sometimes going to be used as a stove a while back, and right now, that was far better than facing the emotional turmoil that rose from simply trying to look Coomer in the eye.

As he sat down, he reminded himself again that it should be fine. It's just breakfast time. Even as strips of bacon were placed directly on his head (at least he'd convinced them to use a pan for the eggs), it was no worse than what he'd been through before. If anything, it was rather amusing. Focus on the others right now. There's Benrey excitement as the sizzling starts, Gordon's despair at their inability to do anything normal, Tommy citing potential health and safety issues, while knowing full well that none of them would listen and Coomer just smiling away-

There's such sadness in his eyes though.

He can't focus on that for long as Gordon comes over with a bit of metal, trying to convince Benrey that you don't just straight up fry bacon directly on people's heads. Tommy is cracking open eggs, humming away and agreeing with Gordon, though not actually intervening. Sunkist is bouncing about, drawn over by the smell, which also makes Coomer yell out "Look Gordon! Bacon! We can use this to-" before being cut off by Sunkist leaps onto him to give nuzzles. He can always tell when someone is down.

Look, see, everything is fine. This is the Science Team, as it should be, chaotic but happy. And Bubby does like that… damn, he loves it. He's part of it and he's fine, he's fine, he's fine-

The constant reassurance has no effect on the twinges and pangs spreading through him. Something is trying to break free, right now, in front of them all. No. He can't have that. He won't allow it. He strains against his own body, trying to shove down whatever the Hell is inside him. Don't ruin this moment. They don't need to know...

The energy build-up becomes too much and his entire body shakes and lurches, almost dislodging the bacon. The cheerful faces soon warp into those of concern and Coomer reaches out towards him.

"Bubby… are you quite alright? You look as though you need a Medkit!"

No. There's a furious headshake in response, not just at the question but at himself. No, not now, he's not ready! He has to be fine, he's not going to let it happen, he's not going to be like that! He has to.. he has to get that energy out, some other way. The smell of burning starts to cloud the air. There's a weird feeling in his lower back, like a coiled spring was tightly pressing against there. It's making his legs twitch as he tries to keep them steady. He involuntarily stretches out his fingers, his hands trembling as he does so, before they curl into fists, seemingly all on their own. That drive within him continued to build and it became clearer what it desired. Move. Jump. Fight. No. He won't. He refuses. He is not letting that out-

Flames explode over Bubby's body, flares shooting out and catching onto everything nearby. There was no controlling the rampaging fire, it quickly spread to Benrey who had still been hovering over Bubby's head. Now he was covered in soot and was mumbling swears as he tried to brush that and some lingering flames off of him. But at least he had been able to suppress the fire. Someone else would be far less lucky. Bubby swings his head around, dread swirling inside him as he realises Coomer had been sitting right next to him. Oh no. No no no no no. There he was, shocked and unable to respond as the flames engulfed him. Exactly as Bubby had expected would happen one day. He's always known he would hurt Coomer in the end. Something finally kickstarted in Coomer's mind and he leaps away, before going into a stop drop and roll.

"AH! IT APPEARS I AM ON FIRE! HELP ME GORDON"

Thank God that fire extinguishers were part of their supplies and something they knew to keep topped up. Gordon and Tommy were quick to act, Tommy tossing one of the extinguishers to Gordon and keeping one for himself, so they could work together to douse everyone in foam…

As they fought back the flames, Bubby himself was in agony from that terrible fire, but he gritted his teeth and ran despite it, using the foam-based chaos to make his escape. Choosing that instead of admitting what was going on, even if that meant suffering until he burnt out. And this makes it the third time he was running away in a single day. He wouldn't allow there to be a fourth. This time he had to get away, for good. The facade was over. He'd run out of time. He was far too dangerous. He’d leave only one thing behind for them to find. Now, run away. For their sake.

* * *

At least running was the one thing he was very good at. Running away from everything instead of facing his fears. He was a goddamn expert. He could put such a distance between himself and the STBFD, and the occupants would never catch up. He wasn't even sure where he was now, the landscape was devoid of any prominent features or signs of human life. But he kept running, it didn't matter if he was lost. Hell, it was probably a good thing. As he ran forward, his thoughts ran around too.

Who even was he in the end, what had he been hiding this whole time? That he was a monster. A mistake. A bunch of bad ideas smashed together into a "human" form. And what does he do? He hurts people. He hurts those who help him. Those who care about him.

He's mocked Tommy for his interests and behaviour, lied to and burnt Coomer, encouraged Benrey's harmful thoughts and actions and...

And Gordon. He can still see that arm stub. Still hear the words tumble out of his mouth, selfish, only caring about being stuck in his tube again, not the agony Gordon is in. What kind of bastard can only say "that's kinda fucked up" when someone lost their arm. Making excuses that he "did not know they would do that" as if that would somehow make it all ok. That because he didn't intend for Gordon to lose his arm it would magically grow back to set up for some cutesy happy ending.

Was he always like this? Was that who he really was? He'd always been… strange… after all, Black Mesa was never going to produce a nice normal human now then, was it? But… he'd tried to act normal. Be like those scientists. The ones he hated so much. Replacing his odd but harmless behaviour with a harsh exterior so that no one could draw close enough to see what he was. Because he'd been told it was wrong. Because even though Black Mesa fucked him up, like Hell they were going to handle that! Why not just fuck him up in a different way then?! Make him feel like he was nothing and make him change in the worst ways…

And he did.

He knew why he had done this. He didn't want to be weak. Vulnerable. He didn't want to be a problem. He'd been hurt so many times and like Hell he was going to put himself in the line of fire for more mockery and pain. He'd just wanted to play along until he was safe. But it had become his whole life.

He didn't ask to be like this…

There's a shudder that travels through his legs and his feet soon trip over each other, leading to a face full of dirt. His glasses ping off and crack against the ground. A shaking hand reaches over to them but uselessly flops besides. They're in reach. But what good would they do now? They can't hide this. His heart breaks as he remembers Coomer presenting them to him all those years ago. They'd been repaired plenty of times sure, but they still were the same, they still held that sentimental value.

Might as well just leave them though. They' won't mean anything to him soon -

No, that breaks him, he can't keep pretending he's fine with this. He's trying to go out without a tear for himself but he can't, he can't fucking do it, he doesn't want this, he can't do this alone. He wants to tell himself he doesn't deserve sympathy or love, that he was made for this, that it's fine, but it's not. It's all lies. Blood is drawn as he clutches his head, sharp nails digging into his scalp. The tears escape and he doesn't try to stop them, at last, he's openly sobbing, but there's no one here to hear him. He's been holding back for so long, never finding a healthy outlet, trying to believe he was above it all and now, now there's no restraining it.

He's a coward, isn't he? 

He can feel that urge to run and hide again, propelling him forward and forcing him further away. He isn't even sure how he's running by this point, and he wants to stop it, but his body seems to be doing its own damn thing and he's just here for the ride. And he can feel it slipping more and more out of his control, as though he's tumbling out of his own mind…

An unfortunately placed rock ends up stopping him, sending him back onto the ground and knocking him off his stride enough that he can focus again, for a moment. A few deep breaths allow him clarity and he knows he wants to turn back but he can't tell where back is anymore, or why he wants to be there. He knows there's something there, back the way he came from, wherever that was, but what? Something good? Something he cared about? 

His head clears with enough focus and he lets out a little cry. He should have stayed with them. They could have handled it. He could have completely lost himself, but they would have still cared about him… sure, he was terrified of what he was becoming, but it was so much worse alone. To get lost in the fog and not even know if they would ever find him. At least if they were holding his hand, it would be less scary. He could go to sleep and believe they'd save him one day… or at least treat him well. Now he's out here, alone, and letting go could be the end for him. The realisation has come far too late and that only hurts more.

And now, he’s losing the only thing he thought good about himself. His mind. His genius. He doesn’t feel like one anymore. He can barely focus on the what’s around him, nevermind all the complex theories he once understood. He tries to cling on but he doesn’t even know what he’s reaching for or what he’s fighting against.

He loses the battle there and the world around him grows fuzzy. He’s still sobbing, knowing that he's missing something, something he should have. But he doesn’t know what or where or why anymore. Why did it matter so much? He can hear that scientist telling him to let go, that he'd forget it, eventually, but that's no comfort, he can't even pretend it is. He doesn't want to forget them, he wants to be with them.

Wait.

Them? Who… who’s that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken me a little while, it was hard to write this and read it to review it. Thankfully the next few chapters are already somewhat drafted so there hopefully will be less of a gap this time around!  
> Now everyone send some care to Bubby.


	11. I'm Distracted By This Weapon, I Love It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Science Team go on a hunt for their missing member and find out a long-kept secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Body Horror, Loss of Control, Elder God Weirdness and General Angst

It had been 3 days since Bubby had disappeared. After the two breakfast incidents, the team had silently agreed to give Bubby whatever space he needed. It hardly made a difference considering how distant he had been of late. Gordon did find it odd that he didn’t even seem to be sticking close to Coomer like he usually would. It was only when Coomer decided to perform his regular needs check, to ensure any hunger or thirst would be resolved(he was always so good at letting everyone know about his needs after all), that it became clear Bubby was nowhere to be found within the STBFD. Empty room after empty room greeted the old scientist, with each one coming up faster and faster as his search became more frantic. The only pause in his hunt was when he came across a small office and what remained of an office chair. He glanced around looking for any sign of Bubby himself, but the only thing to catch his eye was a thick envelope, placed awkwardly on top of a filing cabinet. Thankfully his extendo arms could easily reach it, and something told him that was intended. He turned it over, finding the word "CONFIDENTIAL'' stamped across the front. He flipped open the already torn flap and pulled out two things: A document with the standard Black Mesa Confidential Document Warning and another envelope, also open. He rubbed it between his fingers, something telling him that the document within would hold answers… and he wouldn't like them. Just holding it made him feel uneasy, so he opted to keep it in his pocket. Maybe he'd have the courage to read it later.

A few more rooms passed by in a blur before Coomer felt certain that Bubby was not going to be found. Maybe he just really needed some space right now, after everything. The resonance cascade and then the transfer from his life in Black Mesa, which had been the only place he'd ever know, to this, well, whatever you could describe this weird little life they'd carved out here as. Coomer could understand him needing space and time to process that but he just wished that Bubby would explain that to him. And maybe talk instead of running away. Just a little bit. But… Bubby is his own person. And he was nothing more than a friend, at least, so it seemed. Bubby had no obligations to him, he supposed.

On the second day, Coomer started to suspect this was no normal vanishing Bubby incident and decided to alert the rest of the team. Initially, they weren't too worried, after all, Bubby did this all the time. He always came back. It took some convincing, with Coomer's voice shaking as he explained that he had checked every room and the area around the STBFD, that Coomer knew every spot Bubby had claimed as his own and there was no trace of him at all, that they had to trust him. He knew Bubby. He knew something was deeply wrong here. No matter how hard Bubby tried to push him away, he always seemed to buckle eventually and return to Coomer, as though his true desire was to stay. The words he spoke in those moments were always firm, but his tone and eyes always let on that he didn't really want to run. And thankfully, Coomer could always home in on him, somehow. Was that a side effect of some Black Mesa fuckery, or just the strength of their bond? It was unclear. But it had always worked out. Bubby always wanted to be found(by Coomer at least) and he would be.

This time it was different.

There was nothing there.

It wasn't until the evening of the third day that the team all were truly worried. Coomer had been pacing in circles for hours, speaking through various possibilities of what could have happened. Tommy had been patrolling the outside of the building and Benrey had taken to being look-out on top (though Gordon reckoned it was just because he liked being tall). Some very odd messages from Bubby's Black Mesa communication device that came through to Gordon only heightened the group's anxiety after he showed them to Tommy and Benrey. At first, they thought it best to keep those messages from Coomer, concerned that the extra distress could set something off in him. But when they saw him, sitting in the middle of the room, having run his energy down from pacing, his head hanging and soft little sounds escaping him, they gave in. He needed something to go on, even if it propelled the level of his concern into space. His hands were shaking and he shook his head in disbelief, before shoving the phone back at Gordon and running over to a pile of supplies that had been prepared over the course of the day, just in case. After all, they had no idea how far Bubby could have gone in those three days or what state he was in. Judging by the messages it wouldn't be good.

Gordon cursed in his head as they packed up their bags to set up. He wished he'd taken Coomer more seriously, that they had set off sooner. He’d assumed this was just normal Bubby shit, that he would just come back, and trying to seek him out would only get them fiery rage. He was sure he could feel Coomer’s judgement upon him. Unknown to him, Coomer’s judgement lay only upon himself. 

He should have taken action sooner. He should have looked for Bubby himself when he couldn't persuade the team. He should have talked to him more, should have tried a little harder. He was just so afraid of Bubby lashing out and striking where it hurt the most. His words always stung like Hell, but what if he actually… no. No, he would never. That is completely irrational. Bubby would never hurt him. Not the Bubby he knew.

At least. Not on purpose. He didn't have time to linger on that line of thought though as Benrey's little lookout adventure finally produced results.

“Bro! Bro I see like. Wispy shit. You know! Rising grey air wigglers! Yeah?” Benrey called down to the team.

“.....I. What. What the fuck are you talking about- Wait, do you mean smoke?” Gordon felt he should probably be a little bit concerned that he was getting used to understanding Benrey’s bullshit, but that was something he could reflect on later. This was the only lead they had so there was no time to waste, even if there was a chance it was just some random fire. Or that some poor camper was about to get a horrible surprise.

These concerns didn't even cross Coomer's mind. At Benrey's words, he had instantly become alert, locking his eyes onto Gordon and waiting for about 5 seconds before he became frustrated. He grabbed for some supplies and headed towards the door, taking quick, long strides. Gordon was left scrambling after him when he finally broke out of his thoughts and found that Coomer was already out the door and about to vanish out of sight.

“Dr Coomer! Slow down! The others are coming too, we need to stick together-” he yelled out desperately as he grabbed whatever was in reach before beginning his pursuit. Coomer barely even indicated that he had heard Gordon. He twitched a bit and a quiet ‘Hello-’ escaped him, but he refused to stop, heading towards that plume of smoke. Gordon looked back as Benrey just arrived down the stairs and Tommy was grabbing anything else they might need. He could only hope the others would be able to catch up with a speed walking cybernetic enhanced scientist as he headed out the door. 

Gordon was wheezing by the time they got close, the dark grey smoke cloud looming over them, catching in his lungs so breathing was even more of a struggle. That wouldn’t affect Coomer(damn power lungs) so he continued forward, while Gordon was left to fall to his knees. He could only watch as the old scientist made his way up the hill that concealed the source of the smoke from view, there was no hope of following him up there right now. 

When Coomer reached the top he would be alone. Something he would regret when his eyes finally locked onto the source of the smoke.

He froze. It was as though every single one of his limbs had seized up. Sparks ran through his body but failed to start up those systems. Tremors started to jerk his body about unnaturally as his throat tightened. There was no one around to comfort him.

Gordon didn’t know how he had any strength left to push himself forward, but adrenaline is one Hell of a thing and he found himself soon clambering up the hill (partially on all fours admittedly) to be beside Coomer. He didn't know what was happening but there was no way that strange twitching accompanied by weird metallic clunking was a good thing. As he drew closer, he felt a steadily increasing heat and the crackling sound of fire becoming clearer. The smell of burning filled his nostrils, it felt like he was walking into a dragon’s maw. What the fuck had Bubby done this time? He reached the top of the hill, panting, and followed Coomer’s gaze down the incline to the area below.

Despite the area being sparsely populated by shrubs, there was still a roaring blaze engulfing it. Fire swirled around in strange, unnatural movements, as though being twisted by some creature. And there was one. In the centre of things, just visible through the smoke and flames, pacing around, claws lashing out towards the flames that seemed to dance around it before it would leap back in shock. As though it was afraid of the very thing it appeared to control. Each time it would let out a bunch of weird, strangled sounds, like some awful mix between a dog barking and a cat yowling. Gordon was fairly certain there wasn’t a Wikipedia page on this thing and he didn't particularly feel like writing one. Perhaps whatever it was had followed them from Black Mesa? Some kind of alien or experiment? God, he hoped it was the only one. With a sigh, he set down his supplies and pulled out a gun. He was kinda over the whole killing random creatures business, but no good could come of something that was unknowingly destroying everything around it, especially if it was connected to Black Mesa in any way. He did feel a bit like he was jumping ahead here… Perhaps he was irritated that it had misled them into thinking they would find Bubby. No wonder Coomer was so broken. He raised the gun and took aim.

An extendo arm would put a stop to that, knocking the gun out of his hands and striking his face with such force that he fell back. He landed awkwardly on his side, gritting his teeth in pain. His hand reached up to clutch at his face, red trails streaming from his nose and pooling into his palm. The looming shadow of Coomer was the only view to greet him as he slowly lifted his head. It sent a chill down Gordon's spine, that was only made worse when he spoke, deeper and darker than usual. It was reminiscent of a particular incident back at Black Mesa… and a few other disturbing moments came to mind. Instinctively his body curled up and his hands moved to shield his head as that voice echoed in his mind. 

" **No. I will not let you"**

Fear kept Gordon in place for what felt like an eternity. When no further blows came, Gordon cautiously peeked through the gaps in his fingers. Only Coomer's back was visible, as though he couldn't look Gordon in the eye. Instead, he began walking down towards the flames. As he did so, Gordon found Tommy and Benrey were his side, helping him back to his feet. Tommy looked between them all before yelling out to Coomer.

"Mr C-Coomer! Come b-back! P-please!"

**"Bubby"** was all Coomer said as he continued, not even flinching as the fire latched onto his clothing and began to burn, nor paying mind to the concern of his friends.

Gordon looked down after him, feeling helpless. He couldn't see Bubby anywhere within that burning Hell. Was Coomer so desperate that he refused to accept this fire wasn't Bubby's? These flames were empty of what he sought. Yet he strode towards the creature in the centre as though his very soul might lie within it…

It was only when they started following down the hill that Gordon got a clear look and felt his stomach drop. A lab coat loosely covered the creature. A blue and red tie was still wrapped around the neck, the situation making it appear like a leash or chain as it thrashed about, trying to break free. Most of the body had altered, with the legs and arms now bent into a sprawling form, a tail that left a trail of smoke as it flicked in agitation and plates along the back that seemed to be alight themselves. A mix of scales and fur were visible on the exposed parts of the body, including the feet with 5 long toes, spread out like a lizard’s, clawed at the ends. The face was distorted, now with a muzzle and vertical pupils set in large eyes that darted about. But the bright blue of those eyes. The grey hair that had flared up into a frill, though still leaving the top of the head bald…

**"Bubby"**

Coomer had managed to make it through the blaze and lowered himself down in front of Bubby… or what had once been him. His voice softened as he tried to reach out to the one so dear to him.

"Hello G- Bubby. I- How- Uh. Hmm… I. I've missed you. How are you?"

The flames seemed to recede as Bubby gazed upon Coomer. But the expression he received seemed blank. As though the voice was heard but the meaning was lost. And that only seemed to cause more distress. He'd gone from trying to understand this warm orange weirdness to having meaningless babbling noises made at him by a man who’s voice seemed so soothing. He didn't understand. He can't. Who are you? But he should know... but. He. No. He can't… he doesn't… WHO? WHO ARE YOU?

The creature lashed out, though not directly at Coomer, instead just venting frustration at some unseen foe. Still, Coomer fell back, startled and upset. Bubby… didn't recognise him? In one pure, hopeful moment, Coomer had believed a few words would return him to them. Or, at least give them a sign that there was a way to help. Now, that thought lay shattered before him, and he was left with nothing to cling to. Tears began to pool at the corners of his eyes and he started to sputter, his tics starting up again.

Bubby's brain could not parse any of this right now. The only thing he could pick up on was the crying. Crying… means… hurt? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you? I don't know. Don't think was me? Someone else? I. Attack who hurt?

Bubby's nostrils flared as his eyes settled on the rest of the science team. Must have been them. They would do. Fulfil that objective. He leapt towards them, opening his maw to reveal sharp teeth, and the plates on his back lit up again. Benrey moved to stand in front of both Gordon and Tommy, arms spread wide. They all flinched, preparing for flames and teeth, but none came. Bubby had skidded to a halt just as he reached them, tumbling over into a pile of limbs and flames in front of them. He stared up at them, large eyes quivering as he assessed them, before going for a sharp intake of breath through his nose. He knew them. Their looks, their scent. But again, he didn't know why. His tail struck the ground and he dug his claws into it as he tried to squeeze out understanding from his foggy mind.

Tommy reached a hand out but quickly withdrew, looking at the others, unsure of how they should proceed. Gordon took a few moments, a mixture of fear and pity swirling inside him. They needed to communicate with him somehow… his eyes settle on Benrey as he remembers something. Ugh, he can't believe he's actually going to ask Benrey to do some of his weird bullshit. Still… for Bubby's sake. 

"Benrey… could you… do the uh… weird brain connecting thing.. get through to him maybe?" He kept his voice low. It seemed like anything could completely overwhelm Bubby. And if the blaze he produced before was anything to go by, not becoming a crispy snack hinged on keeping Bubby as calm as possible.

Benrey nodded in silent confirmation before reaching towards Bubby, a tendril unfolding from an unseen plane and snaking towards the back of his head. Thankfully he was too busy glancing over his own body in bafflement as the tendril touched the back of his skull. He didn't even seem aware as Benrey made an entrance to his mind, instead intently staring at a plant that had survived the flames.

That link would bring the elder god within that plant-obsessed mind. Benrey felt an overpowering sense of confusion as he looked around. It was like trying to navigate through a jungle in thick fog. But he continued forward, trying to reach a conscious part of Bubby's mind. The close he drew, the more aware he became of a cacophony of questioning noises. Horrible mixtures of hybridised animal sounds, pleading for answers within an empty mind. It took great concentration for Benrey to extract meaning from those cries, but slowly it became clear. Who are they? Who am I? Why do I know you? Do I know you? I don't understand. I DON'T understand. I should know. Why don't I know? What happened to me? What am I? What did I do wrong? Why me? Why now? WHY WHY WHY WHY?

Benrey stumbled back, clutching his head as the experience overwhelmed him, falling onto his butt with a bump. Gordon was soon next to him, glancing back towards Bubby before giving Benrey a quizzical look. Benrey just shook his head. There was nothing there.

While the others tried to recover, Bubby stalked back towards Coomer, a glazed look in his eyes, walking straight past him without even a casual glance. Perhaps it was just easier that way. But Coomer wasn't ready to let go. One more try. One more reach for his humanity.

"Bubby… please. Look at me"

The creature turned around, but it was a mystery if he actually recognised his name and the request or was just curious about the sounds. He tilted his head, before slinking around Coomer, giving him the once over. Came back to stand in front, looking up and down. Took a deep sniff. Staring. Reaching his clawed front foot up to his head and clutching at it, while making a strained squealing noise. It was a sound of absolute despair. He knows you. He knows you well. You're important to him. But that's all he can strain out of his brain, scratching his own head as if he might physically force out more. Coomer darted forward, trying to prevent any further harm coming to Bubby, but he just ended up startling him. He snapped towards Coomer's hands, but in a moment of clarity, faltered just before he clamped down, and proceeded to snarl and scratch at himself in self-punishment. He bit his own tail, frustration and rage needing an outlet, ignoring Coomer's pleas to stop. Those begging words were filled with guilt as he realised that his attempt to stop Bubby had only made him hurt himself far worse. He slowly fell silent as Bubby pulled back, looking at Coomer's face, full fear and distress. A thought hit him that he didn't even fully understand.

'You knew you would end up hurting him'

But he knew well enough what that thought wanted of him. And he turned tail and scampered away, leaping and bounding across the terrain before any of the science team could even figure out what was happening. Just like that, he was gone.

* * *

There was a seemingly unending silence and stillness. It was like the entire world had a shadow cloaked around it. The Science Team remained split apart, Coomer isolated as he stared into the distance. He only moved when the clearing smoke and debris revealed a pair of glasses, broken and filthy with ash. They were cupped in gentle hands, the sharp glass slicing into those soft palms. Coomer didn't care. He never had. He never cared how sharp Bubby was, how deep he dug in. All he wanted was to hold him.

As his regenerative abilities kicked in, he wiped the blood off on his shirt, slipping the glasses into a pocket, before taking out the envelope from earlier. He pulled out the document, then looked at the title. Project Draconis. His brow furrowed as he began to read.

The document was filled with the usual scientific jargon and descriptions of failed experiments. It seemed completely unrelated to the situation and Coomer was just glossing over until his eyes fixed on something. The name "Bubby". Within the details about the final experiment. "A miscommunication has led to subject PD8808 believing 'Bubby' is his name. He now refuses to respond to his actual designation and is insisting upon being called 'Bubby'. It has been deemed unnecessary and a waste of willpower to attempt to convince him otherwise. The subject shows signs of incredible stubbornness'

That part brought a small smile to Coomer's face. But the rest of the document soon stole it away.

Bubby wasn't just developed to be a scientist. That was his secondary purpose.

His primary purpose was to be a weapon.

A weapon disguised as a scientist. Similar to a sleeper agent, working among others with no indication of his hidden nature. It seemed there was supposed to be a trigger of sorts, to bring about the transformation. A wave of terror passed over Coomer, as he searched desperately for what would have set him off. There was no real relief for him when he found that section of the document, even as it became clear that it wasn't directly caused by him. It seemed that not maintaining him with a mix of various chemicals would lead to sudden changes, reverting him to that animalistic form… perhaps the only reason he had lasted so long away from Black Mesa was that he'd been pumped full of these chemicals for years.

A queasiness rose up within Coomer. He felt deeply disturbed. Was this all Bubby was? A volatile weapon that can self-contain until it was deemed necessary to use? A beast, caged within his own body, unable to break free of his own choice? And he had even helped to further research and weapon development? Black Mesa must have been so proud of this one. So absolutely exhilarated! Who cares if the weapon has feelings? Who cares if it develops a personality? Who cares if people grow to care about it? Not Black Mesa!

Coomer’s fists were clenched tightly. Everything about this sickened him. He had done everything to get them out of Black Mesa, to get them out of the game. He had just wanted freedom. Love. For all of them. But ultimately, his actions had led to Bubby’s deterioration. He knew he should blame Black Mesa, but his head was swirling with guilty thoughts. ‘You should have checked his files’ ‘You shouldn’t have pushed so hard’ ‘You did this’ and the final damining thought 'You fell in love with a weapon'. He could remember those scientists mocking him for daring to be close with an experiment. The idea that they were right was too much for him. He didn't want to believe his time with Bubby had been wasted. That it had meant nothing. He couldn't let that be the case. Coomer’s legs fell out from under him as the majority of his power routed to his brain, forcing him into overdrive. His mind whirred while his body failed. His arms hung limp at his sides and he started to struggle to breathe. Cybernetic replacements are great as long as you can keep them powered!

“G-G-GORDON HELP ME HELP BUBBY GOODBYE BUBBY NO NO NO AH GORDON HELLO HELP-” his mouth was the only thing that seemed to work, the energy he was trying to divert to his legs to run forward instead spitting out a bunch of panicked words.

Gordon, Tommy and Benrey were desperately trying to keep Coomer upright and support him. Gordon had moved in front of him and was now holding him in a hug, stopping the scientist from drooping forward onto his face. Tommy was taking a look at his arms, trying to work out if he could redirect the power somehow. Benrey had a firm hand on his back.

“We should get him back to the dome…” Gordon quickly put his words into action, lifting Coomer as best he could… but with those cybernetic enhancements, he is rather heavy. Benrey moved quickly to help out.

“Bro come on, don’t snap your lil twig back! Here, we’ll fucking… I’ll take the top half yo. Let Benrey do a help, please, thank you!”

It took some manoeuvring to get Coomer into a position where they could actually carry him. He was still yelling away, spasms occurring as his body tried to reset itself, and none of that made this task easy. Neither did hearing the obvious heartbreak in his voice. Tommy had returned to scanning the nearby area with a flashlight, just in case. Honestly, he didn’t know what he would do if Bubby returned. None of them did.

As they began to walk, heading back in the direction of the science dome, Coomer seemed to regain some sense. But that only made things harder. He struggled a bit, arm swinging wildly as it reactivated, before reaching towards the direction that Bubby had skittered off to. His voice cracked and distorted, tears dripping off his face.

“Bubby… Bubby… please… let me go… please Gordon. Please. I need to be there for him”

Gordon maintained his grip on Coomer and nodded towards Benrey, indicating he should do the same. Tommy took the hand Coomer wasn’t reaching with and gently rubbed it.

“Mr Coomer… P-please… we’ll work things out, b-but you’re not in a g-good state. We need to, uh, to replenish your e-electronics. Then we can fix this.” Tommy looked towards Gordon, hoping he’d said the right thing there.

Gordon just nodded… he didn’t think now would be a good time to mention that he wasn’t sure what they could do for Bubby.

In the distance, a trail of smokes and little flickering flames led to a creature whose eyes were darting around. Clueless and lost. Alone. There was no certainty about anything while he was in this state… but it felt wrong. He craved comfort, to just be held and spoken to. A little whimper was his best attempt to vocalise his feelings, but there was no one who could hear him. 

Please come back.

It’s so cold out here without you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there is good stuff and fluff on the horizon. I promise. This chapter was one I already had drafted a while back but struggled with re-writing because YEAH IT HURTS. Opps.  
> Thank you for being patient and all your lovely comments!


	12. The First Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We travel back in time once again to discover a little more about Dr Coomer and Bubby, while you all scream that we need to go back to present Bubby. Nope. Too bad. I got a story to tell here and I'm driving the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Minor Character Death, General Traumatic Experiences, Canon-Typical Violence

It had been over a year since a kindly scientist had encountered a rather curious experiment. Despite their best efforts, they both remained in Black Mesa, one tied into his job and the other treated like property. There had been some changes, especially for Dr Coomer. His innocent interest in waste disposal had led to "required modifications in order to improve productivity and training value", as had his continued work on the now named Wikipedia. Bubby had faced further testing, mostly dedicated to evaluating his intelligence, though a few "combat training" exercises had been thrown in here and there. He was free to explore Black Mesa these days and choose the projects he wanted to work on, but that was where his freedom ended. He was still required to stay in the facility, return to Biological Research daily for stabilisation injections, be available to partake in whatever fucked up experiments they wanted to run on him and the possibility of being put back in his tube hung over him ominously. It had happened a few times since his proper release, occasionally when he was injured, but more frequently without any explanation. He'd be just strolling around or working on an experiment, or perhaps making notes, only to be struck down and immobilized, then dragged back through the doors of Biological Research, unable to move or protest(if he was even conscious), and slung unceremoniously back into the sludge. Every time he'd be told that it was important, vital, essential, every damn word was thrown in his face, but no actual reason ever came. He formulated his own theories on the matter, but none of them could make him feel better about the matter. Justification was near impossible to find.

Unlike Bubby, Dr Coomer could usually manage to walk the hallways without much incident, but today was going to be different. As he walked from his office towards a testing chamber, an unseen force smacked into him, leaving him winded and pressed against the wall. Startled and disoriented, he flailed wildly for a moment, attempting to fight the source. But there was nothing there. His vision was blurry as eyes rolled about uncontrollably until he managed to find his balance and lift his head. Slow, deep breaths came to him at last and it seemed as though the moment had passed. Perhaps another glitch to make a note of? If he could get back to his office he should probably write this down-

Those thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his abdomen, followed up by a stabbing feeling in his shoulder. He winced and wheezed, propping himself up against the wall. The pain was merciless, now wracking his whole body and a snapping feeling passed through him, as though he had fallen hard on his back and broken it. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to block it out. This had to be coming from one of his clones. Snippets of sound from the clone's location were filtering into his mind. Screams, giggles, grunts and a distressed cry of "Dr Coomer!". Bubby. That was Bubby's voice. He pushed himself upright, driven by the anguish he heard. He had to get over to biological research before-

A shattering pain erupted from his brain, leaving his ears ringing. His eyes snapped open to look up at the ceiling. Everything seemed blurry and he felt deeply sick. The pain faded away in those moments, as did the sounds. He couldn't lock onto them again.

The clone was dead.

Even though his body begged him to stay on the floor, his mind refused to listen. He stumbled to his feet, moving as though he was drunk, though he certainly didn't have any of the pleasure that could come with inebriation. His lungs were taking laboured breaths as he tried to move down the rocking hallway, crashing into the wall on one side, then pushing himself into the other. Still, his progress was forward and he began to gain control again. Nothing would stop him from reaching his goal.

And then there was a flicker. A spark within him. Before a full-blown surge of energy sent him flying against the wall, his hands scrambling against it as he tried to stay upright while his legs strode forwards uncontrollably. The clone's dead body could no longer contain the volatile energy that kept them all running and linked, so it had routed back to the original. A sense of power flowed through Coomer's body and he felt as though he was ascending above it all. Giddiness filled his mind and for a moment he felt as though he could see beyond anything and do whatever he pleased. If he destroyed every clone if it felt like this every time, how strong would he be? He could crush anyone in his path. He could tear this world apart in seconds. A wicked grin spread across his face at the very thought. Those ideas swirled around as he lost himself to an intoxicating whirlpool of power-

No. He didn't like that. He didn't like it at all. 

There would be no drowning in visions of destruction! Absolutely not! And no, there won't be any uptake on maddening power. Big pass on that! Control over all? No thank you! 

Well… at least not for today.

Coomer finally found himself back in his body, within Biological Research and just outside of the collection of rooms that were dedicated to creating and studying various experiments. The smell of burning flesh drifted from the room and over to him, making him gag. The queasiness from experiencing his clone's death had not left him and he was forced to slow down and press his head against the wall. Trying to handle all this at once… it was too much.

But he couldn't stop now.

What he finds behind the door is horrific. The entire room is painted with scorch marks and blood. Charred remains of what were once scientists are scattered all over the room. There's the corpse of a large beast, skin completely burnt beyond recognition. Its six limbs, multiple jaws and spiked tail are all Coomer can really make out from what is left. One of the jaws holds what looks to be an arm… most likely the one missing from the clone underneath the creature's body. There's an awful lot of blood around the clone, one clear stab mark right through the lower abdomen and a claw still jabbed directly through the head. Coomer found himself wrapping one arm over his stomach and pressing the other over his head. He was so disturbed that he didn't notice the one living being huddled in a corner of the room… until there was a sob.

His eyes fixed on the figure. Dressed in a lab coat, hands pressed against either side of their head, their entire body shaking. There was some short and messy golden brown hair visible, and the sobs seemed to register as being in a familiar voice. He wasn't sure if he dared believe it. The one survivor of whatever had happened here. But he hoped…

"Bubby?"

The body seized up at those words, before trying to compact further into the corner. Shaky, wheezy breathing could be heard as Coomer crept closer. As he draws near, Bubby finally turns his head to face him. His glasses are broken and tears are streaming down his face. He winces a little as he moves, perhaps from pain. But that doesn't stop him from shaking his head and then turning to face the wall.

"Of course. Of course, they sent you. Please… please Coomer… just. Do it quickly. I won't fight you." Bubby closed his eyes tightly and waited.

"...Do what?" His voice shook. He didn't know what Bubby was expecting but considering their surroundings, it couldn't be good.

"D-don't… please just… just be honest. You don't have to pretend. Just. Kill me already"

Coomer couldn't stop himself from making a distressed noise in response, a sort of rapid intake of breath accompanied by an odd squeaky screech. That was enough to make Bubby turn around fully and look up into his eyes.

"...you're… not here to do that? Why… why are you… I don't understand..." Bubby's voice was shaking and his eyes were filling with fresh tears. Coomer knelt down without a thought about the blood and god knows what else that was on the floor. He looked into those eyes and shook his head.

"Why would I ever do that Bubby? What happened?"

Bubby's face scrunched up and he moved to pull away, then tried to reach for Coomer, before pulling back again. He rocked back and forth, unable to decide if he wanted to run or be comforted. When it became clear that Bubby was too distressed to make a choice, Coomer placed one hand on his shoulder, then cautiously wrapped his other arm around his body, slowly pulling him closer. With each movement, Coomer watches carefully for signs of discomfort or distress, ready to let go at a moments notice if needed. But that wasn't necessary in the end. Soon Bubby was clinging onto him, head buried into his shoulder, shaking and wheezing.

"They- they woke me up. Said, said you. You, you were coming to visit. That there was a test today, you were helping. I d-didn't know what to expect but they said something went, wr-wrong and that I needed to come out immediately and I saw h-him and that, that  **thing** and, and I didn't- I thought- it sounded so much like you- and everyone was telling me to f-f-fight, to charge at it, they said something about about test-testing protective instincts, but I was so scared, I was a fucking coward, I couldn't do, do it, I couldn't and then, then, the claws went right through and. And. And. Oh God. I don't know what happened I could feel myself burning up... Like I, I was going to, to explode and the flames were everywhere and everyone, they, they, they didn't stop screaming and they just kept running in to try and stop me and. And. Oh God. I couldn't. I didn't want to. I thought they k-killed you! I knew when the flames burnt out and got close it wasn't you but- I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry it's too late I d-d-didn't want this.." no more could be made out as his words broke down into sobs.

Coomer remained silent and still as Bubby opened up, only gently rubbing his back and adjusting his hold as necessary. Once the apologies started to spill out, he spoke up. "Oh Bubby, Bubby. Bubby, it's not your fault. We'll sort this out"

"They'll destroy me! They'll put me down! I'm an animal, an experiment, nothing more! I… I thought they'd s-sent you to, to, to, k-k- ah, dispose of me"

"No" Coomer’s tone was so stern that it made Bubby flinch. A reassuring hand is placed on a shoulder and a silent look of 'It's not you that I'm mad at' is given. "You are so much more than that. I will not let them do that to you" Coomer took a shaking hand in his own and squeezed it tightly. "We will get out of here. I promise."

"Bu-buh-but how?"

"The vents, come on! You know all about getting about in them! I'm sure we can both manage it" Coomer managed to scramble up to one using various derbies, before reaching down to offer Bubby a hand. Bubby looked doubtful, but took it and was swiftly lifted up with surprising strength. He felt a little flushed by it but didn't have time to think further as Coomer dragged him along into the depths of Black Mesa.

* * *

It wasn't clear how long they had been crawling through the vents at this point, or how far they had gone. Everything looked the same. Dark cold metal surrounded them, distant voices echoed around, occasionally drawing closer and halting the journey until they faded away once more and it felt safe to move on. Occasionally they would try to listen in to the conversations, hoping to guess what department they were over, but that was no easy task. It soon turned into a little game, with both of them trying to propose more outlandish explanations for what they had heard than the suggestion before. 

A scream? Bubby claimed that was "Filing. Someone just got the worst damn paper cut!"

"No no, my dear fellow, I do believe we are above the cafeteria. Seems the food quality has deteriorated even further than previously predicted!"

"Oh? No, now I think about it, we must be above weapons. Don't you remember the screaming missile they're developing? Devastating sound on impact!"

"Now, don't be silly! We both know that it's cybernetics who are developing the screaming robot! We can't possibly have a screaming robot and missile! How ridiculous!" 

It made for a good temporary distraction from the situation. Even as they crawled through the dark vents, uncertain of where they were going and what might happen, at least the company was good. 

Still, eventually, the nagging fears took over once more and Bubby began to feel agitated about the whole situation. He huffed as he tried to find some sort of comfort or an outlet for his anger, but he remained surrounded by a featureless metal prison. He needed to know how much further, or to at least let out his frustration with the situation. "How big are these damn vents? Where the Hell are we?" 

Coomer responded almost instantly, in a very cheery voice "Vents! I believe you are referring to ducts! Ducts are conduits or passages used in heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC) to deliver and remove air. The needed airflows include, for example, supply air, return air, and exhaust air. Ducts commonly also deliver ventilation air-"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" there's no obvious response to having someone randomly start informing you about vents. Bubby can't help but stare.

"...Ah. I. I do apologise. I have received some… modifications… in order to better facilitate the building of Wikipedia! The free encyclopedia that anyone can edit!" That last sentence seems almost forced. Coomer's face scrunches up a bit in response. "There are still some glitches that need to be dealt with- but I'm sure it'll be handled soon enough!" He could see the way Bubby's face fell. The concern in his eyes. He didn't want him to worry.

"That's. That seems pretty fucked up. That and the clones? Is… is there anything else?" 

"Ah… it's really nothing to concern yourself over. I will be perfectly fine! Hello!"

That last part made Bubby even more doubtful than he had been before. But he wouldn't push the subject. Perhaps he should but it felt a little hypocritical. Considering what he was hiding. But it does make him wonder a little bit about what could be ahead for them.

"So, uh, what… what will we do… when… if we escape?" 

Coomer ponders for a moment "Well. You could uh. Stay with me for. As long as you like. I mean. I don't exactly have a house but I know somewhere we could go! Then we just. Lay low for a bit. Can't imagine Black Mesa would be too pleased with me stealing their equipment! Even if it is inside my body!"

"Heh… don't think they'll be too damn pleased if you steal me too." 

"Well! They'll have to deal with the consequences of treating you like an object on their own! They don't value you properly as a person and thus do not deserve to bitch about it!" 

Bubby can't help but wheeze at that. Coomer always had the best responses. He rather hoped he would be able to stay with him for some time. Though that did make him curious. "And uh… what… what do after that?" Black Mesa is all he knew, after all. He couldn't even begin to think of all the possibilities that there would be for them outside.

"Well...whatever we want I guess! We will have to find a way to live sustainably, and eventually, move out of state, I suppose. Perhaps out of the country, for maximum safety… but, ah, after that? Well! If we can acquire a house, I've always wanted to grow a good herb garden! And perhaps do a bit of DIY? Woodwork? Yes… yes, I could make quite a homely space for us!"

"Huh… I've. Not seen many plants before… a herb garden sounds nice." It seemed like such a silly idea for two scientists who delved into incredibly experimental fields. And that's what made it so perfect. So far detached from it all. "I'd love to see what you could make as well… maybe I could help?"

"Yes, yes of course you could!" Coomer just felt relieved that Bubby hadn't had any protests about staying with him. He had got a little ahead of himself with the talk of running away and home comforts. Quite silly really, was he going to ask Bubby to move into a little cottage with him next? He has to stop himself from actually thinking about that idea. It was supposed to be a ridiculous suggestion… and yet...

Coomer's eyes lit up. Literally. A soft green glow emitted from them, lighting up the dull environment. He didn't even realise it. One of the unfortunate side effects of his various "upgrades" was that they could be rather temperamental, activating over strong emotions rather than the intended triggers. The eyes were supposed to light up in dark locations, and this was certainly a dark location, but he was meant to have some degree of control over it.

The sudden light drew Bubby's attention, and he looked at Coomer, only to find a pair of unnatural green glowing orbs that he didn't recognise. He startled, yelling and stumbling back"W-what happened to your eyes?!" He continued to back away until he was pressed against a corner of the vent. He didn't mean to appear so horrified but a part of him was now worried he might have a clone with him instead of the real Coomer. Or he'd been replaced by a robot. Or that he was some kind of monster that might strike him down in these very vents. He wanted to believe otherwise, but the year he had experienced and the events of early had left him on the edge. Anything was possible here.

"A-ah! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you! They uh, they upgraded my eyes to. I… I'm honestly not sure what they did… or why they did it… but it, it's ok! They're the same, just, they just…" Coomer couldn't quite keep up the facade. His first few years at Black Mesa had been uneventful. But then he'd lost a lot of his outside life and become isolated. And they were taking advantage of that. How could he protest when he had nowhere else to go and no one to fight for him? He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Everything was fine until he stopped to think about it.

Bubby drew closer, scooting his way over from his corner of the vent to get a better look. He tilted his head, his own eyes shining, before reaching a hand out towards Coomer, resting it on the side of his cheek and gently tipping his head up to get a better view. It took a moment, but soon a gentle, reassuring smile appeared on Bubby's face. Coomer wasn't sure if he'd ever seen him smile quite like that.

"Hey, it's ok, you're right, they are still your eyes… a little different but…" the next part is said in a hushed whisper that left Coomer uncertain if it had actually been said "still beautiful". Before he could comment on it Bubby continued "Sorry for freaking out there. This damn place has got me in a fucking state. The sooner we both get out of this shit, the better. Come on"

Bubby had realised this was no longer just an escape for him. It was for both of them.

* * *

Their adventure continued on rather uneventfully until they came across a more open area with a large, thankfully defunct fan. Bubby glanced around, mostly disinterested, though the space did help make him feel a little less claustrophobic. Which is why he didn't initially question why Coomer had stopped there. Still, it was a little odd for him to have stopped suddenly and silently, and upon closer inspection, it became clear that Coomer was crouched down, staring intently at the floor. At least, that's what it looked like. Bubby drew a little closer to investigate and noticed a bunch of fast-moving insects at Coomer's feet.

"Uhhh… why the Hell are you watching cockroaches?" Bubby took a few steps back, concerned there was something dangerous about them.

"Well! We have been crawling around for quite some time now, and I'm not sure how much longer lays ahead of us! This is perhaps not an ideal situation, but bugs can be highly nutritious! Considering the task ahead, it may be worthwhile stopping for a moment for lunch! Can't be much worse than what we've eaten here before!" Coomer snatched one of the cockroaches, holding it firmly between his fingers. He glances around, hoping to find something to start a fire with to try and make it a little more palatable.

Bubby watched the cockroaches skitter about, darting back and forth in chaotic and panicked movements. He found himself mesmerized by their little dance, his eyes locked on to track their every move. If he timed it right he could bring it all to an end, pouncing on them all and snapping them up in a second. Or he could purposefully miss. Land so close to them, forcing them to scatter, only to then leap forward and snatch their escape from their desperate, twitching legs. A hunger opened up within him, urging him to hunt-

"Bubby?"

Coomer's words shattered the weird haze Bubby had fallen into, startling him. He wheezed a little, eyes darting around in confusion as he became fully aware once more. What was that? Why did he-

The hunger is very quickly replaced by his entire stomach dropping away as realisation hits him. He hadn't received his injection today. The file he had recently found made it clear why they were so necessary. To stabilise his human appearance and behaviour. He had rather hoped it was all some bullshit to dissuade him from escaping. The file had been rather conspicuously placed, so easy for him to find, as though they wanted him to stumble across it. It seemed like an attempt to keep him behaving. But that didn't mean it wasn't also true.

Bubby became aware that a soft hand was gently taking his own and squeezing it. Coomer's face was filled with concern as was his voice "Bubby?"

"A-ah, I'm, I'm afraid I'm not feeling very hungry after… earlier." It wasn't a lie, not really. He didn't feel like he could eat anything right now, and the horror of before certainly hadn't worn off. But that wasn't exactly the true reason, was it? Was that wrong?

"Oh… oh of course, of course not. I won't push it if you can't stomach it right now." Coomer reached around to rub Bubby's back in reassurance. "It's ok. Let's carry on" he glanced at the bug in his hand and then swiftly shoved it into his mouth. Hmm. Crunchy. A few moments later he found his hand occupied once more, Bubby's shaking hand finding comfort in his own. He nods and squeezed it gently before walking forward. They'd move forward together.

* * *

As the metal corridor they travelled in continued to stretch forward, Bubby's movements began to slow. No matter how hard he tried to forget what had happened earlier, it did happen and it had taken a lot out of him. He was exhausted, though he kept forcing those steps, keeping hold of Coomer's hand to motivate himself. But he soon found that his arm was having to stretch to keep holding on, and his feet were starting to drag along. He ended up stumbling a little, which immediately drew Coomer's attention.

"Bubby? Are you tired? We can rest if you like! Plenty of available energy is absolutely vital for a properly executed escape, so if you are running low, it would be most advisable to stop for a moment!" Coomer had already begun to poke his head out of where a vent grate had been previously before Bubby could even protest or claim that he was fine. "Ah, excellent! It appears we are in a- look, look, an abandoned department! Yes! I do believe this was the astrology department!"

"You… mean astronomy?" 

"No, no, the astronomy department is still fully functional! The astrology department was decommissioned after…  **the incident** " Coomer voice grew oddly deeper in that one moment.

"The… the uh, incident?"

" **Do not anger the stars-** yes! There was a meteor that crashed through the entire department! Of course, it was likely a coincidence, but the study of the subject was halted until they could construct impact-resistant roofing! More of the facility has migrated underground since! Perhaps it would be safe to start up once again… though telescopes do need to view the sky- ah. I apologise, I do believe I am rambling! What matters is that this area is no longer in use and we must be incredibly close to the surface!" Coomer had not long finished his sentence before he was tumbling out of the vent, landing with a soft squeak on the floor. Bubby was concerned for just a moment before he softly chuckled and went to jump down himself. Coomer was waiting, arms outstretched.

"I'll catch you in my big strong arms~" he had a big silly grin on his face. Bubby snorted but willingly jumped down into those arms. Ah. Jumping into arms means you get held… That sure was something. They both were messing around but perhaps this was a little more intense of a moment than either of them expected. Coomer mumbles "Ha, look, I caught you!" trying to keep up the playful attitude, while he lowers himself down so Bubby can hop away before he turns and strides swiftly through a doorway. Bubby followed along into a large, open room.

Star charts covered the walls, dusty and slightly singed in places. There were a few whiteboards, long detached from their frames, some of which had very artistic drawings of the star signs, while others were covered in symbols and calculations that Bubby couldn't make sense of. Maybe that was because at least half of the information had been smudged away. Broken desks and chairs littered the floor, but the main attraction was the giant hole in the middle, which plummeted down through several floors, the bottom of which was not visible. A similarly shaped hole was above, instead of most of the ceiling. It carried on up through several of the rooms, revealing the sky. 

They were so close. So close to getting out of this place, to the sky, to running free. So close to houses and plants and no more tubes.

Coomer had found a spot a bit away from the massive pit, that he had begun to clear of debris. A stray chair cushion became the main source of comfort as he settled into the spot, leaning back and inviting Bubby over to join him. Bubby took one last look around, before coming over and being offered a second tattered cushion. It would do for now. 

As they lay next to each other, Bubby found himself fiddling with fraying fabric and his own hands. He didn't quite know why he felt so anxious, as his eyes found themselves locking onto Coomer again. Coomer made him feel safe, after all. But he was worried about him… about what he'd seen today and what he'd heard about before. Perhaps he needed to reach out?

"Dr Coomer… I'm. I'm worried-"

"Oh! Well, that is only natural considering the situation, Bubby! You have no reason to be ashamed of such things! You are always welcome to talk with me about your concerns!" Coomer smiled brightly, giving a moment for Bubby to speak.

"No, I… well. Yes, I'm worried about every damn thing going on right now, but I meant I'm worried… about you. About what's been happened to you here. They've… they've taken so much from you. It's pretty fucked up..."

Ah. Coomer's expression falls into a far more serious one. He hadn't expected Bubby to be focused on him with everything else going on. But there was no point in trying to pretend he was fine with it, was there? He took a slow, deep breath and nodded "Indeed… it is rather fucked up. And even when we escape, I have no doubt they will somehow take more from me. But honestly, they can take whatever the Hell they want from me… except you… I will never let them take you from me"

Coomer didn't dare explain the confusing feelings that had begun to develop as he had spent those days with his hand pressed against the tube, waiting for Bubby to emerge. The twisting in his stomach, a mixture of excitement and nerves brewing within him whenever he headed down to Biological Research. Initially, he had assumed it was just due to the combination of stress and suddenly having this new friend in his life. But as the days had passed, it became more and more noticeable. The association with Bubby was glaringly obvious, but what was this feeling? It seemed as though it might be a good one. Happiness? Excitement? Or were his cybernetics playing up? Why did it feel like his heart was going to leap from his chest when he met Bubby's eyes? Why was his pulse racing so much of late? Maybe he'd have to get his cardiovascular system replaced… unless…

When he actually took a moment to sit down and think about it, the answer was so blatantly obvious that he honestly wondered how he ever got his PhD, since apparently, he was a complete idiot. Still, he couldn't criticise himself for long as the understanding slapped him with a wave of embarrassment. His face was burning, which only made him think of Bubby more. A little squeak escaped him as he buried his face in his hands and tried to stop feeling absolutely smitten. God he hoped no one would come into the room at that moment. Considering what he'd had to put up with just for helping out with Bubby, the rumours, Dr Davis offering to "help" him, he didn't want to imagine how bad it would get if anyone did find out he felt that way.

Once he recovered from the overwhelming embarrassment and took a moment to steady his breathing, his eyes had wandered around until they landed on a certain drawer in his desk. He reached down and pulled the divorce papers out, thumbing through them, something he'd been doing far less of late. He hadn't even noticed how little he'd been thinking of his ex-wife of late. How his distress over it all had grown numb, how he found himself thinking more clearly about the whole situation. They never had been right for each other, in the end. This was probably the best for him, though he was still a little bitter over losing so much and what became of her. Made the whole starting a new life thing far more difficult.

"Dr Coomer?"

Dragged from his memories, he looked down towards those eyes that jolted his heart, more so than usual as the glasses had been set aside while he was thinking, allowing him to see their full brilliance. There was an odd little look on Bubby's face. It looked like he was trying to work something out and after a few moments reached his conclusion, his face changed to that of concern. He looked over Coomer as though seeking some kind of answer and perhaps it was just due to the warping of a desperate mind, but it looked like there was a little blush across Bubby's cheeks...

In truth, Coomer wasn't even sure if Bubby could feel that way. He wanted to believe that it was possible. Reviewing all the evidence from their interactions suggested there was a possibility worth investigating… but he did wonder if Black Mesa would have allowed their experiment to be able to feel such things. Then again, knowing Black Mesa, they wouldn't have had any idea on how to suppress such things, since that would probably require some understanding on the subject to begin with. They knew fuck all about Bubby, as far as he was concerned. So maybe, just maybe, it was possible.

Honestly, even if Bubby couldn't feel that way about him, it wouldn't change anything. He'd protect him all the same. So he gave a gentle smile as Bubby continued to look, which seemed to answer something. There was a little gasping breath before a face was pressed into his chest, breathing rapidly.

"Mmm… I feel… strange… around you" those words were whispered, as though Bubby barely dare say them. 

Coomer felt a little lump in his throat. He coughed a little before managing to respond "...would you call it a… ah… good type of strange?"

There was a short pause, as Bubby squeezed his lips together and made a little clicking noise with his tongue. Thinking about it. "I… yes, I would. A good strange… fuzzy… warm..."

"Ah. Then… Me too, Bubby, me too" Coomer cautiously reached down to place a hand on Bubby's back, keeping him close.

"But… I… I don't… Dr Coomer…"

"Harold"

"Huh? Who? Where?"

"No, uh, no that's. That's my name. H-Harold. Doesn't really get used around here much these days… perhaps that is for the best but. Maybe. Maybe this is presumptuous of me but, if you, well, wanted to, you could. Use it, when we are alone. If you find it less cumbersome, of course. No requirement, of course, I mean, obviously. Really, uh, perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it at all, you can just forget about it-"

"Oh my God, Harold"

An odd little shiver passed through Coomer's body and he gulped a bit "Ah, if you don't like it-"

"I like it! I want to use it! Shut up before you work yourself up into a goddamn state you idiot!" As he didn't trust him to stop worrying, he firmly pressed a hand against his mouth. Against those lips… god those intelligence injections had not prepared him for any of this. He knew what the feeling probably was, but denial would creep in every time. Not because he didn't want to feel that way. Not because he didn't like Coomer, no he… he did. But he was afraid. Afraid of rejection, of what he was, of what Coomer would think of that.

But… if anyone could understand, it would be him.

"Dr Co- Ah. Harold. I uh, I need to tell you. Something. Something about me. About what I am"

"What you are? What do you mean?" Coomer tilted his head a little. He wasn't sure what Bubby could be referring too. After all, he knew so much about him already.

"I'm… I'm not, uh. If we leave I. I'm. It's. I can't. There's. If I don't get. I just. I don't want you to have to. If you see. It's not… I'm not like… I am.." he trails off, realising he wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't find the words. 

Coomer thinks that he understands, Bubby must have some concerns about being artificially created, about being an experiment. "Bubby, just because you were made in a tube, that doesn't make you any less of a person. I don't fully know what they've done to you, what they say are, but you don't have to explain yourself to me. You are Bubby, and that is all that matters to me" 

"But… it's… it'll… I'm…" Bubby could feel the words catching in his throat, tears slowly pooling in his eyes. He wanted to leave but he was so afraid of what might happen to him. Of what might happen to Coomer. If he didn't say it, maybe it wouldn't be real. Maybe it would never come up. He fell silent and just pressed his face into Coomer's shoulder. 

"Shh… it's ok. I'm here. I've got you" Perhaps it was a good thing that the majority of the team that was tasked with Bubby's care was already dead. Every second Coomer spent seeing the effects of their treatment towards him made him want to try out some experiments of his own.

Bubby accepted that comfort, knowing he would need it to find the strength to be fully honest. But he would also need time… he just hoped he would have long enough before the changes began-

Footsteps. There were footsteps nearby. Bubby froze up, his eyes fixed on the door. No one was supposed to be up here, right? If someone was… oh no. The footsteps drew closer and the sound of a radio crackle became clear, as did the voice coming through it moments later. Security guard orders and terms and something about searching Unit A-089 for PD8808 and one other target. Bubby began to tremble, no, no, this couldn't be it, he didn't want to die. Earlier he had accepted it, but now, now he saw a future where he got to be a person. And now he saw Harold and he didn't want to ever leave him. 

Coomer didn't even hesitate as he moved so his body was shielding Bubby. He knew could take a hit, thanks to all those upgrades. He calmly took out a pistol (Bubby wondered where the Hell that came from but doesn't ask) and aimed steadily at the door. When it began to open and there was a peek of a person, he fires a warning shot. It whistles past a very alarmed looking security guard who immediately ducked down in response and held his hands up.

"WOAH WOAH EASY I'M JUST TRYING TO DO MY JOB MAN, I'M THREE HOURS OVERTIME AT THIS POINT YOU GOTTA HEAR ME OUT"

Coomer didn't falter, keeping his aim directly at the guard's face. His look was stern, angry even. But he didn't take the shot, though his finger remained on the trigger. His voice was uncharacteristically devoid of emotion. "Fine. What do you have to say?"

The guard quickly spat out an explanation, not daring to linger in silence "Ok look, look guys, you gotta understand, I know you know I guard shit and yes, I have a gun, and sure I stop intruders and spies and whatever, right? Except I don't because nothing happens in my department. I haven't had to fire a single fucking shot so far, and you know what? I'm good with that. So just listen for one second." The guard eyes that gun, hoping his pleas would persuade the scientist to lower it. No such luck. Guess he'd have to continue on like this. "Ok. I don't give a fuck about whatever science shit you all get up to, I get my orders, I follow them and then I go home and drink a beer and watch my TV and pay for it all with the money from this disaster job. So let me tell you, my orders say to tell you that you're marked as non-threats and that you're both expected at Biological Research for cloning tomorrow morning, replacements for whatever happened, then you'll be assigned to wherever the fuck. That's it, there's nothing here about getting shot or answering questions, I don't have a clue what the Hell is going on. I've found you, I've told you, I've done my part and I've got a beer waiting for me, so if you could agree to go back to the labs, lower that gun and let me go that would be just swell, thank you very much!"

It takes a moment for Dr Coomer to lower the gun, keeping his eyes focused on the guard’s hands until he feels certain that he isn't about to shoot them. He glances at Bubby, shrugging a little, and gets a nod back in return. 

"Fine. I suppose those terms are agreeable… we will return once we've had ample rest… you can at least give us that." he tried to keep the bitterness over not escaping out of his voice. He didn't break eye contact until the guard had awkwardly shuffled out of the room and closed the door. Finally, his expression relaxed, as he let out a little sigh. He wasn't pleased with this outcome, but perhaps it was better than facing the risks that would come with escaping. Bubby himself seemed to be willing to stay, which did strike him as a little odd, but maybe the stress of actually trying to leave had become too much. He just hoped they would use more 'normal' cloning methods on Bubby. He didn't deserve to have to handle that on top of everything.

Bubby was somewhat relieved. His grand ideas of escaping had been crushed by the realisation that he might well be dependent on Black Mesa to stay "normal". But maybe, with more preparation, they could try again? Though he would have to let Coomer know the truth. But he didn't have to tell him now, at least. He would one day soon, yes, if it was necessary or it came up, sure, if he needed help, then absolutely, that would happen. But not now, so there's need to worry about it.

Later. He'd do it later.

* * *

The opening in the ceiling now revealed the night sky. Stars slowly started to appear as it became darker and their eyes adjusted. Bubby found himself mesmerized by the little twinkling lights above. 

"I want to go there…" he remembered hearing about various space programs that were taking place. Would it possible for him to make it among those stars?

"To space? I'm sure it would be lovely! It really is beautiful! Maybe you could sneak into the astronauts training! Then you could go there in a rocket!"

"Ha! No one could bother me up there!" He grinned, thinking of the peace and quiet, and there aren't any space tubes as far as he knows.

"Yes… yes of… if course… I imagine it would be… rather isolated up there" Coomer couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. And Bubby picked up on it in an instant.

"Well… maybe not completely… maybe someone… could come with me?"

Coomer finally came to the realisation that despite the lack of danger, Bubby was still leaning on him, his head resting on his chest. His arms remained wrapped around Coomer's body and he was looking up with curious eyes. Hopeful.

"Well… that certainly sounds like quite the adventure! You'll have to steal an extra spacesuit in my size though!"

There's a muffled chuckle as Bubby presses his face against Coomer. "We could start a herb garden up there too!"

"Oh, how wonderful! The first space-based herb garden! Truly our greatest achievement, eh Bubby?"

"Damn right. I can't wait" he grins up at Coomer, before closing his eyes. He could take a moment to rest. Not long of course, just resting his eyes for a little bit. Thinking on things.

Time drifted on as the clouds above floated past, fresh air just about reaching the pair to make it a little easier to doze off. Coomer drifted in and out of consciousness, still somewhat on alert, but finding himself slowly slipping into daydreams. He shook himself awake, wanting to check on Bubby once more. He kept his voice quiet, so as not to unnecessarily disturb him. "Bubby?"

Judging by the slowed breathing and lack of response, it seems as though Coomer was now a bed for one very tired experiment. He couldn't help but smile, after everything, some rest was really quite needed, and he was pleased Bubby had found some. He did look peaceful as he slept, occasionally nuzzling his snuggle buddy and adjusting his grip all while a little smile remained on his face. How Coomer wished his heart didn't sing quite as intensely as it did at each little movement, at all the trust he knew lay there. At least his predicament wouldn't be noticed right now. Even if the feelings were mutual, it was all still rather overwhelming and even just imagining the teasing Bubby would give upon seeing him flustered like this made it flare up more. Because oh, deep down he wanted that. He wanted to feel the heat on his face while Bubby grinned at the sight only to leap forward and plant a kiss on those smug lips and make him the speechless one for once.

Ah. He really has got it bad. He shuffles a bit, trying to find a comfortable position to rest himself without disturbing his companion.

They'd have to go back into Black Mesa soon. Deal with whatever nonsense would be thrown at them for all of this. It would be worth it though. For him. They'd be free one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Ok so the last chapter I did of you guys in the past got really long because you're so gay, so could you maybe not do that this time?  
> Coomer and Bubby: How 'bout I do, anyway!
> 
> So there was a big break here, apologises for that! I need to give myself some space before working on this again so I didn't burn myself out. In order to make it up to you all, I've got a little interactive event planned on the [blog](https://freeneoscienceteam.tumblr.com/)! You are going to get the chance to speak with a few of the scientists from Black Mesa's past. I'll set it up a little bit after posting this chapter! If you want to ask Dr Davis why the Hell he's like that, or the 'project manager' of Bubby's creation why he's such a bastard, this will be your chance.
> 
> Have some lovely winter holidays, hope you're all staying safe and remember to send some love to your local Bubby.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out [The Blog](https://freeneoscienceteam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr to send a few asks and see a little extra content for this work! Keep in mind this is my first proper fan work. I've got several arcs planned out and a few memories to revisit, so this will be of unknown length. Hope you'll enjoy!


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